Sparkling River Rocks
by Austin0425
Summary: After the events with Wilmur's father and Carl's father, they're love story continues in the prison. But what if chaos interrupts their love story once again? Will they survive the chaos or will it just separate them? Originally created by Thewalkingdeadisthebestshow Shattered Moonlight Series Part 2
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Gleaming Light

Everything was peaceful. The war against the Governor was over. They had food and a roof to live under. It was as if they were living a normal life.

They all had jobs to do. Wilmur's job was to go on runs with his adoptive father, Daryl Dixon. Carl's job was to stay at the prison and help his father, Rick, farm in order to give everyone enough food. Because of their jobs, Carl and Wilmur hardly got to see each other. Carl was busy farming all day and Wilmur was back from his run after sundown. However, at night, they meet each other in a part of the prison no one had found. They sneak around in there, but they don't do anything sexual. Wilmur would never do that until Carl was ready. Wilmur had attempted it once, but Carl told him to stop.

"Carl?"

The young boy turned his head to look at Wilmur. There was a smile tugged against his lips. His dark blue eyes were glowing in the dark.

"Yes?"

"Open your mouth again. I think I saw something in there."

Carl's eyes expressed curiosity. Was his throat still swollen from those stupid men from Woodbury attacking him? Hershel had told him it was okay for him to talk.

"You mean..."

"Yeah."

Wilmur's lover obeyed and open his mouth wide, exposing his gums, teeth, tongue, and throat. There was really nothing wrong with his throat, but Wilmur was up to something else.

"Wider." Wilmur said as he leaned in closer.

Carl's mouth opens wider.

"Wider."

Wilmur kept leaning closer and closer. He was obviously about to pull a trick.

"Wider.

Carl did as told and opened his mouth wider, only to receive a kiss placed upon his lips. Wilmur tricked him to kiss him. Wilmur laughed and Carl laughed along. However, Wilmur doesn't stop. He grinded Carl down and climbed on top of him, unzipping the zipper on his pants.

Carl quickly placed his hands on Wilmur's.

"Wilmur...I-I'm sorry but...I'm not ready."

Wilmur just smiled and climbed off him, ruffing his hair.

"Whatever you want. Tell me when your ready."

A smile sneaked it's way onto Wilmur's lips. Carl had grown so much. His brown hair was longer to shoulder length, but Wilmur didn't mind. His hair was cute when it was long. Carl's blue eyes somehow sparkle more than usual. Especially when they're around each other. Carl's entire face had grown. It was like he wasn't even the same person anymore. He smiled a lot more ever since him and Wilmur got together.

Rick had approved of their relationship. He said if Carl was all alone, he'd prefer to have Wilmur with him more than anyone else. he trusts Wilmur to protect Carl no matter what. He apologized to Wilmur for everything he's done to him and Carl. When Rick finally recovered from Lori's death, he realized how he hurt Carl. Rick started to go through depression. He was overwhelmed with what he did to his son. Every night, Rick would cry over it. Carl eventually figured what was going on with his father and talked to him every night. Carl comforted him and helped him get back on his feet just like Wilmur did to Carl. Finally, Rick and Carl developed a stable father and son relationship.

It was similar to Wilmur and Daryl. When he came back, Daryl was the one who took care of him. He welcomed him back to the group and made him feel comfortable like Carl did. Daryl had begun to teach him how to track and use a crossbow. Wilmur was like a champion at both.

Smiling, Wilmur stood up an looked at himself in the mirror.

His black hair had grown longer. It was near Carl's hair length, but not exactly. His dark blue eyes had somehow grew more shinier. His facial length had grown like Carl's did. Wilmur was starting to resemble more and more of his mother despite the hair and eyes. Meanwhile, Carl was establishing his own looks. Sure, he had Lori's lips and Rick's eyes, but he was starting to turn into a handsome young man.

Carl had grown stronger. He was becoming stronger and stronger everyday. He wasn't like a kid. He was like a young, strong man. Independence had taken over his childlike personality. Wilmur didn't mind it because he admired it, but Rick had a problem with it. He mourned for his son's childlike personality to come back. That's one of the only reasons why Rick made him farm. Wilmur didn't mind Carl's job, but he definitely needed another job at the prison. Carl was strong than farming.

Wilmur sighed while putting on black shoes with a white lightning strike across them. He was wearing a red long sleeve, simple shirt. His pants were black like his shoes. He never wanted to wear anything fancy. Especially while going on a run. Even before the apocalypse he still didn't wear anything fancy. Cloths wasn't going to tell who he was.

"Already getting ready?" Daryl grumbled.

Wilmur placed a smile on his lips and gave his head a shake.

"No. I always get up early."

"Cause' you wanna see Carl?" Daryl corrected.

A rose color formed on Wilmur's cheeks. There was once a tad bit of rose color present on his cheeks, but it disappeared over time as he grew older.

Daryl chuckled and placed a hand on Wilmur's shoulder. It was rare for Daryl to laugh or even chuckle. Ever since Wilmur came back to the prison, Daryl always smiled a bit more just like Carl did. Wilmur was the complete opposite of Merle. Merle was abusive and insane. Wilmur was loving and smart. Carol and Wilmur were the two people Daryl was closest to.

"Go on."

Wilmur smiled and walked out of the cell and into his lover's. Carl was still fast asleep. Usually, Rick would've already woken him up by now. Instead, Rick was just about to walk out of the cell block.

"Not waking up Carl today, Rick?"

Rick stopped his tracks, turning his head to look at his son's lover. Rick had somehow grown a little, too. Somehow, his blue eyes were smaller and the beard on his face grown. Not only appearances, but his personality completely changed as well. Carl had changed him from an insane and hurt man to a caring and stronger man.

Wilmur still didn't like Rick much, but he liked him better than he did before. Rick still treated Carl like a kid. Like he couldn't handle himself. Carl didn't have a problem with it anymore, but he was still a man. Carl was forced to watch his dear mother die. He was the one who had to put her down and had to deal with her death by himself. If Carl was put through that much, then he definitely wasn't a kid anymore.

"He was up reading comic books all night...he should probably sleep in." Rick said, causing a giggle to slip from Wilmur's mouth.

Carl's love for comic books only grew over time. Every time Wilmur went on a run, he would bring back a present for Carl. Sometimes, it would be comic books. Carl would freak out every time Wilmur brought comic books home with him. Even if it was just one. He'd always laugh at Carl's love for comics, but he actually didn't mind it. It always made the smile on Carl's face bigger.

Wilmur would do anything to keep the smile on Carl's face. He always risked his life for it.

"Hey." Rick said, grabbing Wilmur out of his thoughts. "Be careful on your run."

Wilmur placed on a weak smile and nodded.

"I always am."

Rick smiled, dragging his rough hand down Wilmur's neck, his normal gesture for Carl. He gave Wilmur a simple nod before walking out of the building. Wilmur smiled and sighed, walking into Carl's cell. The boy was fast asleep in his slumber. Comic books were piled on the floor while on of them laid in Carl's hand.

He was breathing peacefully. His breath was even with no snore sneaking in it. Sometimes, Carl would have terrible nightmares. Once, Carl even woke up screaming and jumped in Wilmur's arms. No one could calm him down except him.

"No! Stop it!"

Carl's voice made Wilmur jump out of his bed and onto his feet. His lover's crying voice sounded so heartbroken. The screams were uttered into his ear. Everyone in the cellblock was running to Carl's cell with Wilmur following along. He shoved the people out of the way to get to his lover. Carl needed him right now. More than anyone else.

Wilmur pushed the curtain out of the way to see Rick holding his squirming and screaming son. Rick couldn't calm Carl's heartbroken cries down. His screams were hurting everyone's ears. Wilmur felt as if he was about to go deaf.

"Carl! Wake up!" Rick yelled, shaking his squirming son.

Only Carl didn't wake up. He only screamed louder and squirmed more. His arms were legs were flailing and his arms were fighting against his father. Rick couldn't get him to lay still. Every time he tried, Carl's fight against his father would only grow stronger. Shouts were slipping through Carl's mouth. He was begging for who knows. No matter how loud everyone screamed in Carl's face, he still wouldn't wake up.

"It's just a dream, Carl! Wake up!" Beth yelled, gripping onto Carl's shoulders.

Carl screamed louder and cried harder, his begs only growing.

Wilmur quickly scrambled over to Carl's side, gripping his brown hair and doing the same as everyone else.

"I promise, Carl! It's just a dream! All you have to do is open your eyes!"

Carl tensed under Wilmur's gentle touch. He smacked his hand away and screamed louder. The grumpy people had already placed their hands over they're ears. The caring people stared with sympathy. The children stared with fear. A little girl, Mika, was clinging onto her older sister's hand, Lizzie. Tears were slipping down Mika's cheeks while Lizzie just stared with no emotion.

Wilmur reached for Carl's hand again, but Carl shoved him away, knocking him to the floor. Tears fill Wilmur's eyes. There was nothing he could do to wake Carl up, nor get him to calm down. He's never seen his lover like this, and he certainly doesn't like it. It breaks his heart to see his lover like this. They had a happy ending. Why was Carl acting like this?

"Carl! I promise all you have to do is open your eyes!" Rick said, shaking his son harder, but it only made things worse. Carl was fighting everyone like they were enemies.

Tears streamed down Carl's face like a rushing river. There was no way to stop the tears from pouring or streaming. Carl's cheeks were covered with nothing but tears.

"What do we do?" Beth cried. "If we can't get him to wake up, then what do we do?"

A single tear slipped down Wilmur's cheek. There was nothing to do but sit there and watch his lover scream and cry in fear. Daryl noticed the tear as well as everyone else. Beth stepped towards him, placing her soft hands on Wilmur's. She couldn't count on Rick. The only person who she could count on to calm Carl through his tears is Wilmur.

Wilmur had calmed and helped Carl through everything.

"Please, Wilmur." Beth whimpered. Carl meant so much to her. Before Carl met Wilmur, he had a crush on Beth. Before that, they were like brothers and sisters. She helped Carl when he got shot. She always donated food to him on the road. She helped get passed his mother's death. But now she can't help him...only Wilmur can.

Tears slip down Wilmur's cheeks as he gave his head a shake.

"Please. You're the only one who can help him."

Wilmur curled up his knees against his chest, clutching onto them, tear drops landing on the surface, creating damp spots.

"I can't. Screaming won't wake him."

"Then comfort him. Let him know you're here. Like you always did."

Wilmur stared at Beth with his teary eyes before darting them to the screaming Carl. Everyone's eyes were pleading him. Even Daryl's. Rick's eyes were filled with tears like his. They both hated seeing Carl like this. Wilmur was inexperienced with Carl's depressed side, but Rick's seen it before.

Rick's eyes were filled with sympathy as he stared at his hurt son. His eyes filled with plead when he looked at Wilmur.

"Please, Wilmur."

Carl screamed louder. Tears suddenly just bursted from his eyes. Packs of them were being loaded in his eyes and delivered on cheeks. It was as if a balloon busted. Not just his tears, but his squirming insanely increased. He was now slapping everyone who was touching, including Rick.

Wilmur sighed nervously, slowly pushing himself off the floor before walking over to Carl. He couldn't touch him yet. He'd just end up on the floor again. Instead, he placed a hand on Rick's.

"Carl, please." Wilmur said with calmness instead of yells. "I promise it's just a dream. It's all in your head. You're not there. You're here. In your cell. In your bed...with your family gathered around you. Just open your eyes, and you'll be here."

Slowly, Wilmur gently placed a hand over Carl's. His lover flinches, but doesn't smack away. If Wilmur kept it up, Carl's eyes should open in no time!

"I'm here...no terrible or disgusting person is here. You know I would never let anyone hurt you. They'd have get through me first. Probably even kill me."

The tears stopped bursting from Carl's eyes. The only tears were the ones that were left on his cheek, dripping down it slowly. The screams turned into small cries. Then the small cries turned into whimpers. Then the whimpers turned into quiet sobbing. Then the quiet sobbing turned into sniffles.

"I love you, Carl. You know that. I love you so much that'd I kill myself if it meant saving your life. Just open your eyes. I'd rather die than see you like this. Please, just open your eyes...please."

Slowly, Carl's eyes flutter open. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Any tears could spill again any second. A tear escaped Carl's eyes as he turned his head slowly to look Wilmur in the eyes. He had heard his voice in his nightmare and now he was sitting beside him, stroking his cheek to brush the tears away.

Rick's tears fell on his son's face. He thought he'd never wake up. No one's ever seen him like that. Carl was always such a strong boy. He was always courageous and braver than anyone in group. Even more than Wilmur. Fear was never an option for Carl. It was either be strong or be weak.

"Wilmur..." Carl sobbed, trying to sound strong but failed.

Wilmur smiled and wrapped his warm arms around Carl's shivering body, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead and leading up into his hair. Carl buried his face in Wilmur's chest, inhaling his sweet scent. Wilmur gently stroked his back and hair. He didn't care everyone was watching. He needed Carl to stop crying and calm down.

Tears slip down Rick's cheeks as he watches Wilmur and Carl embrace. Rick should be embracing Carl. If he hadn't walked out on Carl after Lori died, Rick would be the one embracing Carl, but he understood. Rick had left Carl behind and put himself first. Wilmur hadn't done any of that. Rick would understand if Carl wanted someone actually there for him.

Wilmur gently pulled away from the embrace, placing a gentle kiss on upon Carl's lips. His lips tasted salty from the tears, but it was good enough. Carl's lips will always taste bitter sweet. Wilmur would never be able to get enough of it.

"Ugh." Said a bunch of people that weren't even from their cellblock. A lot of people in the prison had a problem with them being together. Mika did. She always complained to her daddy about it. Though Wilmur can't actually defend for them because she's a little girl.

Rick and Wilmur gently lay Carl back on his pillow as everyone left the cell. Rick tucked Carl in while Wilmur softly mummered gentle words to Carl. The tears from Carl's eyes were gone, but were still staining his cheeks.

Carl wouldn't be able to fall asleep peacefully. Not after what happened.

"Away...away..." Wilmur sung. He always sings when someone he loved is upset. He did it to Penny a lot.

"I love you like you never felt the pain..." He continued singing. "Away...I promise you don't have to afraid...away...love is here and here to stay so you lay your head on me..."

Carl looked up at his older lover, his breath starting to even out from Wilmur's voice. It sounded so beautiful. He couldn't believe Wilmur never sang to him before.

"Little do you know I know you're hurting while I'm sound asleep..." He continues. "Little do you know all my mistakes are slowly drown in me...Little do you know I'm trying to make it better piece by piece...Little do you know I...love you till the sun dies."

Carl's night terrors were over. It was so terrible a little while ago. Wilmur ended up needing to sleep with Carl just to get him to calm down. When Wilmur started sleeping with Carl, his night terrors slowly calmed down. When his night terrors completely calmed down, Wilmur was forced to sleep in his own bunker again. He couldn't help but feel sad that he couldn't sleep with Carl anymore. It felt good.

The night terrors were terrible. It only got worse before it got better, but Wilmur helped. He helped make it better. It was a terrible time for them all. Especially Rick and Wilmur. All there was tears. He would always refuse to tell anyone what they were about. Not even Wilmur.

During the day, all Carl did was sit on his bunker and cry softly. Wilmur would always wipe away the tears, but it was hopeless to stop the tears from streaming. Wilmur would hold him in his arms and sing and whisper comforting things to him. At first, Carl would shriek under his touch. It always made Wilmur cry because there was nothing he could do to make his lover feel better.

Eventually, Carl got used to it, but it still didn't get any better. It made Wilmur feel terrible because if he hadn't came, Carl wouldn't be having all the night terrors. Soon enough, Rick would decide to let Wilmur sleep with his son, hoping it would make him feel better, and it did.

All of the night terrors, the screams and cries, it slowly got better. Every time Carl woke up screaming, Wilmur would drag him back into his arms and comfort him. When Carl tensed in his sleep, Wilmur would whisper things in his ear. When Carl completely recovered, he still slept with him for a while just in case it happened again. After three weeks of waiting for nothing, Rick made him sleep in his own bunker again.

"Wilmur?" Daryl said. "You ready?"

Wilmur sighed and smiled.

"We leaving already?"

"I mean for going to see Carol." Daryl corrected.

Wilmur looked to Carl's cell and gave a slight nod.

"Yeah, just a sec."

Daryl watched as his adoptive son walked in Carl's cell. He had everything he wanted. Daryl didn't expect to find a family who cared for him unlike Merle, nor did he expect to adopt a son. Daryl was satisfied with his family and son. He couldn't ask for anything more.

Like Daryl, Wilmur had everything he needed. His true love, a new loving father, and a caring family. It didn't matter if Wilmur was under a roof or not. As long as he had his lover with him, Wilmur would be satisfied.

Wilmur smiled as he looked at Carl's sleeping form. His eyes were still gently closed. It wasn't closed tight like Daryl's. When Carl had his night terrors, they're were always closed too tight. Sweat would always be dripping and soaking into his pillow.

A kiss is gently placed on his cheek, making Carl smile. Asleep or not, he would always feel Wilmur's presence. It was the exact same with Wilmur. His lover's presence walked out of the cell, gun in his holster.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Carl's eyes greeted the bright sunlight when he opened them. It shined right through his white curtain. Part of it was opening, letting the sunlight slip through. He didn't appreciate loud alarms. The sun was his alarm just like the moon was. The moon alarmed him that it was night.

Night time was his favorite time of the day. It always gave him a break and time to spend quality with Wilmur. They'd always meet in their secret spot in the prison when it was night. No one knew about the spot. It made it special. It made their private moments special.

They had stopped going there when he developed night terrors. It was one of the most horrifying things in Carl's life. Yet, he couldn't tell anyone about what he dreamt of. He was already stuck in a nightmare. Wherever he went, the darkness followed him. Wilmur had tried to get rid of it, but it took a long time to do so.

Wilmur even went through PTSD because he couldn't help Carl. Carl then realized how selfish he was being and tried to help himself, but it didn't work. His broken heart just refused to defend for itself. Him and Wilmur were both in terrible conditions then. However, over time, Rick let Wilmur sleep with him.

The day Wilmur started sleeping with him, the night terrors immiedently started to slowly get better. Every time he woke up from a night terror, he was secured in Wilmur's arms. His arms would keep him safe. His hands would soothe his body. His fingers would wipe away his tears. And his lips would give him the warmth of comfort.

Everything about Wilmur got rid of the horrifying night terrors.

"Dad?" Carl said, stepping out of his cell with his blanket wrapped around him.

The only thing that met him was the bright sunlight. It shined through the window bars and onto Carl's gleaming skin. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight. If it was the moon, his eyes would shine. Wilmur thought it was beautiful. Wilmur's eyes would glow. It made them both part of the moonlight. If it was a new moon, they'd be the moonlight.

Rick wasn't in the same room. It was probably sometime around ten o'clock. Rick would usually wake him up at eight. They'd work in the fields all day long until it was a little bit passed sundown. Carl would be exhausted by the end of the day, but not too exhausted for Wilmur.

Carl yawned before grabbing an over shirt and throwing it over his t-shirt. Then he put on blue jeans along with belt to hold stuff in. He didn't have a gun anymore. His father took it away after the war with the Governor was over. It was because he killed the young boy in the woods, but he only did it to protect his family.

Wilmur had tried to get Carl's gun back, but either Rick or Hershel caught him every time. It lead to nothing but arguments between Wilmur and Rick. All they did was argue. Most of the time, it was over Carl. It was as if they were fighting over him all the time. He knew Wilmur didn't like Rick much. It didn't bother him, but he wished for the two people he loved more than anyone to get along.

The thoughts followed Carl all the way out of the cellblock and building. The thoughts disappeared once he noticed his father working with the pigs. Hershel had found them in the woods. Daryl and Wilmur went to get them and brought them back along with a horse. Ever since then, the pigs kept breeding. When the piglets were old enough, they took their parents away and ate them. Then the piglets would grow up and mate. It was like a cycle.

"You didn't wake me up." Carl said when he was close enough for his father to hear.

"Cause' I knew you were up all night reading comics with a flashlight."

Carl shrugged and smiled. Ever since him and Wilmur's first kiss, he smiled a lot. Wilmur made him feel like the happiest man alive no matter how much pain he's been put through. Wilmur killed his darkness and brought back happiness to Carl. He's never been happy since before his father got shot.

The young teen looked to Violet, one of the pigs. She was laying on the ground, barely moving. The pig was a little bit paler and it's breath was hitching. All the other pigs and piglets were fine. However, Violet usually got sick easy. They don't ever want to eat her because of how much she gets sick.

"What's up with Violet?"

But he knew what was up. Violet was obviously sick. She got sick all the time, but never like this.

"Carl, I told you not to name them. They're not piglets anymore, they're food."

Carl frowned. His father usually had a problem with the most simplest things. He can understand why Wilmur doesn't like him. However, it wasn't something to get mad over. He didn't want to act childish, although he tried to be a child again. All his father wanted for him was to be a child. He wanted him to do teenage things like hang out with friends and read. Rick didn't mind if he didn't do school, but he at least wanted him to have a happy childhood even in the destroyed world.

"I just thought...you know, until..." Carl trailed off when he looked at his father stern face. "Okay."

Rick replaced the stern look with a look of worry. He didn't like being strict towards his son. He loved him too much to be strict toward him. It was impossible to stay mad at Carl.

"I don't know what's goin' on with her. Could be sick, could be nothing."

The pig looked as if it was dead. He wondered if it died, would it come back? If everyone was infected, didn't that mean animals were, too?

Rick clicked his tongue, trying to grab the pig's attention. "Get better...Violet."

Rick took a look back at his son, chuckling. Carl smiled again, making Rick happy. He didn't like the frown on Carl's face earlier. The smile didn't fade off Carl's face like it used to. Before Wilmur came along, Carl barely smiled. If he did, it would be the weakest and tiniest and shortest smile. When Wilmur came, the smile grew larger and longer.

"You know, you were distant before. Wilmur helped, didn't he?"

Carl smiled at the mention of his boyfriend.

"Yeah...yeah, he did."

The smile still didn't fade from Carl's lips, but his cheeks somehow grew rosier. Rick chuckled at Carl's blush.

"C'mon, let's get to it."

Wilmur and Daryl walked to Carol, who was cooking pig meat. The delicious smell filled Wilmur's nostrils. Before the prison improved, the only smell was blood and the dead. But now it was the smell of the regular prison and people.

Daryl handed Wilmur a plate with pig meat and lettuce on the side. He grabbed a water bottle and took a few sips before placing the first bite in his mouth. Pig was usually for breakfast, dinner, and lunch. However, Wilmur and his run team wasn't usually back for lunch or dinner. They usually have to eat while on the run.

"Smells good." Daryl said, grabbing his own plate.

Carol smiled, a smirk sneaking into the smile. "Just so you know, I liked you first."

"Stop." Daryl said and Wilmur chuckled.

Wilmur thought Daryl and Carol would make a good couple. After all, Daryl really cared for Carol like Wilmur did for Carl. Him and Carl and Daryl and Carol were the same. Once, him and Carl put Carol and Daryl in the same room alone together. Dinner was set on a clothed table along with candles. Wilmur and Carl were peaking through the door crack.

It was really awkward. Daryl and Carol were both blushing. They talked, but didn't confess their feelings. Wilmur and Carl had bursted into laughter. Then they both chased Wilmur and Carl down the prison, but they hid in their little, secret spot. They laughed so hard, their faces were too red.

"You know, Rick brought in a lot of them, too." Daryl said, talking about their newcomer, Bob Stookey.

Wilmur, Daryl, and Glenn ran across Bob alone on the road a week ago. His entire group died and then the next group died out. Bob was one of the few lucky ones. Bob was in a terrible condition when they brought him in. He was far too skinny due to starvation. The run team fed him everything they had. Each new day in the prison, he grew more weight. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

And now, Bob thought he was healthy enough to go on a run. Everyone, especially Sasha, was uncomfortable about it. But it was his choice. Everyone in the prison has a choice. It was Hershel's motto.

"Give the stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to live with love. You can ask Wilmur for advice." Carol teased, smirking.

Wilmur smiled, giving Carol a knowing look. Carol usually teased around about him and Carl's relationship.

"I need you for something." Carol said, paying her attention to Daryl again. "Wilmur, can you take care of this?"

Wilmur nodded, taking the washrag. He stepped in front of the cart, smiling.

"Patrick can help, too." Carol said before walking away with Daryl.

Wilmur rolled his eyes when Patrick stood beside him. Patrick got on his nerves. During the day, when him and Carl found a rare moment to share, Patrick always interrupted. He would stick his childish nose in their business. Because of him, Carl and Wilmur never found a moment alone anymore besides in the night.

Patrick smiled at him, holding his fist up for a fist bump. Wilmur looked away and shook his head, rejecting the fist bump. Patrick was even annoying to touch. Before Patrick came to the prison, he was in Woodbury. Patrick still got on his nerves then. He always stalked him with a bunch of questions. When he was Justin, Patrick was probably the third most annoying person in Woodbury. The first was the Governor and the second was Andrea. However, when he became Wilmur again, Patrick was the second most annoying one, and he still is.

"So, how's you and Carl going?"

Wilmur exchanged him a little glare. It wasn't his business to ask about Carl. He wouldn't even tell Patrick if him and Carl got in an argument. He won't tell a total stranger! What was Patrick thinking?

"Why do you care?" Wilmur asked with an annoyed voice.

The same, stupid smile stayed present on Patrick's face, annoying Wilmur. He could never wipe the smile of Patrick's chapped lips. It was impossible. Patrick was just too happy.

Patrick doesn't answer, he just asked another question. "When did your relationship with Carl begin?"

"It's none of your business! Why are you always asking about Carl? Do you like him or something? Because if you do, he's taken. He's mine!"

Of course, Wilmur wanted Carl to be happy, but he couldn't stand Carl with someone else. Carl was his and no one else's. It would be too impossible for him to let Carl go to someone else.

Patrick did like Carl. Why else would he ask so many questions about him? Why else would he interrupt him and Carl's time together?

"I don't...I don't-" Patrick cut himself off. He couldn't let Wilmur know he actually liked Carl. Some part of him wished Wilmur never came along so Carl would be single, but that was just cruel. Carl was happy with Wilmur. Not Patrick.

"Then leave him and me alone." Wilmur threatened, still glaring.

"But-but...Carl's my friend." Patrick cried, making Wilmur scoff.

"I would allow him to be your friend if you didn't interrupt us so much. You get on Carl's nerves, too, you know?"

And it was true. Carl would sometimes complain about Patrick when they were in their secret spot in the prison. Wilmur would complain about him, too, but he wouldn't talk bad about him. Even though Patrick gets on Carl's nerves, Carl still cared for him. Not much but more than Wilmur did.

"If I got on Carl's nerves, he would be staying away from me." Patrick defended and Wilmur scoffed again.

"He already is."

Patrick froze and Wilmur chuckled mischievously.

"Just go back to doing your own, weird thing. I can handle the cart." Wilmur said.

Patrick smiled bigger and shook his head. "Nah, I can help."

Wilmur sighed with annoyance. Once Patrick wanted to stay where he was, there was no you could move him. It didn't just annoy him and Carl, but it annoyed everyone in the prison. He would walk up on anyone making out and he would refuse to leave. Even Hershel talked to him about privacy, but he still wouldn't listen.

Wilmur thanked the lord when Daryl and Carol came back. Daryl gave him a look to go away, but like usual, it didn't work. Daryl rolled his eyes and motioned Wilmur to follow him. Wilmur sighed with relief and threw the washrag in Patrick's face, but Carol made him apologize, but then he did again and ran off.

Daryl turned around when he heard Wilmur's loud, fast footsteps. He was glaring at Daryl.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Where were you? Do you know how torturing it is to be with him?" Wilmur responded

"I've only been gone three minutes."

"Every minute is torturing with him."

"So? You stay with Carl like that all the time."

Wilmur froze, a pinkish color forming on his cheeks. Daryl laughed and placed a hand on Wilmur's shoulder again. It wasn't like Daryl to laugh or joke around. But it was a happy, bright day. Not just a day. A whole month. They've went 30 days without an accident. At least that's what Beth's record said.

"C'mon. Let's go." Daryl said, still smiling.

The father and son walk to the car. Wilmur threw a couple bags in the trunk and helped with the gasoline. Meanwhile, Beth walked up with another gasoline bottle in her hand. She placed a gentle kiss on her boyfriend lips, Zach. He was a part of their run team. Beth and him been boyfriend and girlfriend since the third day Zach was brought in the prison.

Their relationship didn't bother Wilmur like it did with other boys in the prison. Their relationship reminded him of him and Carl's relationship. Every time he thought about him and Carl, his heart warmed up. Beth and Wilmur understood what love was.

"Hey." The newcomer, Bob, walked up. "I'd like to start pulling my weight around here."

"Bob, it's only been a week." Sasha said.

"That's a week worth the meals, roof over my head. Let me earn my keep."

Wilmur sighed and looked at Daryl. He could tell his adoptive father wasn't too comfortable about letting Bob in. No one really was. Zach didn't seem bothered about it, but that was just because he wasn't showing his concern. He knew they couldn't tell Bob no. It was his choice and his only.

"You were out on your own when Daryl found you." Sasha said.  
"That's right." Bob replied.  
"I just wanted to make sure you know how to play on a team."

Bob stared at Sasha, searching for any emotion. Wilmur always studied Carl's emotions. It was hard because his normal expression and sad expression looked similar. Sasha, however, was just uncomfortable like everyone else. When she was sad, she was frustrated. When she was angry, she was frustrated again. When she was happy, she looked normal. When she looked normal, she looked in a down mood. Her emotions were different than others, but Wilmur knew how to read them.

Everyone struggled to read Carl's emotions except him and Rick. Rick just doesn't push further. When Carl says he's okay but isn't, Rick would be okay even though Carl's not okay. Wilmur, however, would push further until he figured out what was bothering Carl. It was impossible with the night terrors, but anything else, Wilmur could figure it out.

"We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy." Daryl said.

"You know, he was in the medic army." Glenn mentioned. He was trying to get Sasha to agree. It was Bob's choice to go or not. Sasha just couldn't accept it yet. She didn't even like Bob that much. It wasn't just because she felt too uncomfortable about it.

"Okay." She finally agreed.

Wilmur sighed and mummered a finally. He grabbed Glenn's bag and threw it in the car before Daryl stood beside him, looking at him with worry and concern.

"You ready."

"You've asked that question three times now." Wilmur joked. "Yes, I'm ready."

"There you go, buddy." Carl said, throwing pieces of bread to Violet. The poor pig slowly pushed itself up and barely made it's way over to the bread. Gently, it nibbles on the bread. He wasn't suppose to be feeding it, but he couldn't help but feel bad for it. If he's honest with himself, he actually grew kind of close to it.

If Violet ever stopped getting sick so much and was healthy enough to eat, he would end up begging his father to keep it alive just like the little girl did to Wilbur in Charlotte's Web. He would be embarrassed if it ended up happening, but he knew his father would still love him no matter what he acted like. Weak or strong, he's the same person.

Violet looked up and bubbled a sick sound passed her mouth. She was smiling at Carl and he was smiling back. It was a weird friendship Carl would definitely keep a secret. He might tell Wilmur though. Wilmur wouldn't make him feel embarrassed about it.

Michonne's whistle snapped Carl's attention away from the pig.

Carl looked ahead to see Michonne riding back on her horse Daryl and Wilmur found. Michonne goes outside the prison to search for the Governor. Even though the war was over, the Governor's fate still remained unknown. He could very well still be alive. And Michonne's job was to find and end his life.

However, she hasn't found the Governor. Not even a clue or track of him.

Carl made a run for the gate and opened it for Michonne, pulling down the rope to open it. Ever since the Governor smashed a hole in it, they've had to find something else and they did. The prison was much more improved. Everyone loved it, but a lot didn't love it as much as Woodbury. At the prison, you barely get any privacy. Woodbury, you can get all the privacy you want.

Michonne and her horse ran in the gate with a full bag. While searching for the Governor, she found some really good stuff Carl always wanted and something Rick desperately needed.

"Somebody hit the jackpot." Michonne said, pulling a whole series of comic books out. Carl placed a bigger smile on his lips and took a hold of the comic books. It was a series Carl never got to finish reading before the apocalypse began.

"No way. Awesome! Thank you!"

Michonne smiled. She loved it when Carl was happy. He was like her son. "I get to read them when you're done."

"No, Wilmur reads them when I'm done." Carl teased.

"Wilmur doesn't even read comic books!" Michonne said, laughing.

"Yes, he does!" Carl argued, laughing as well.

Rick laughed as he watched his son laugh. It always warmed his heart to see his son happy. He needed to thank Wilmur for making Carl happy again. Carl's still laughing when he took the horse away. He gave it a pat on the back after tying it back to the wooden rail.

A motorcycle could be heard up ahead, making Carl turn around. Wilmur and his run team were about to leave. Wilmur never left without saying goodbye. He quickly ran over to Daryl's motorcycle. Wilmur was sitting with Daryl on the motorcycle. It was his favorite spot to sit at.

Wilmur smiled when he saw Carl standing beside him. However, Carl wasn't happy. He didn't like it when Wilmur left to go into danger. Carl wasn't allowed to. Why was Wilmur? He wanted to protect Wilmur like he protected Carl. All of Carl's thoughts were focused on his lover in front of him. He wasn't listening to Daryl, Michonne, and Rick's conversation.

"Be careful out there, okay?" Carl whispered, not wanting to interrupt everyone else.

Wilmur smiled and stroked Carl's rosy cheek. "I always am."

Rick, Michonne, and Daryl's conversation is ignored. The two lovers stare and look each other in the eyes. It felt like Carl was saying goodbye to Wilmur forever. It always felt like that. He never knew if Wilmur would come back or not.

The two boys snap out of each other's eyes when Daryl started his motorcycle. Before Daryl took off, Wilmur stood off the motorcycle and placed a gentle kiss on Carl's lips. Carl never blushed when Wilmur kissed him. He was so happy to be with him that he didn't have time to blush. The only time he blushed was when Wilmur said something heartwarming to him.

"I'll be back."

Those were Wilmur's last words before they took off.

Carl watched as they drove off into the long distance until eventually, he couldn't see them anymore. It made him sick how everyone was willing to sacrifice Wilmur's life for supplies but wouldn't do the same for Carl. He would like to spat that out to everyone, but Rick would just get him in trouble.

He was growing tired of Rick being all protective over him. Sometimes, it even made him feel like a weakling.

Carl sighed and walked back to the horse and pigs. He snuck Violet a little bit more bread before his father walked to him. He knew his father was going to tell him to do his childish chores, but then again, he was trying to be a child.

"Going to check the snares?" Carl asked. He wanted to go with him but...

"I am. You're not. Do your chores."

Carl sighed. He never got to do anything. He wanted to help, but he guessed he was too weak and small to help. Everyone, besides Wilmur, thought he was too weak to handle himself. Of course, Carl still loved them all but...he wished everyone would realize how strong he was.

"Read comics. Maybe some books, too. Hang out with Patrick."

Carl didn't mind being Patrick's friend, but he did get on his nerves. Every time him and Wilmur were able to find quality time together during the day, Patrick interrupted. Then Patrick would try to push Wilmur away and move in on Carl. He knew Patrick liked him. Often, Patrick would attempt himself to Carl, but Wilmur would always shove him away.

He tried to make Patrick understand he didn't want to be with him. He loved Wilmur and wanted to be with him. He only sees Patrick as a simple friend, but Patrick didn't seem to understand. He wanted Patrick to leave them both alone just as much as Wilmur. If he tried to explain to his father what Patrick was doing, he probably wouldn't believe him. He would say 'you need to hang out with someone else other than Wilmur.'

"Maybe go to story time."

Now you've gone too far.

"Dad, that's for kids."

"Y-yeah." Rick smiled.

Carl sighed and shrugged. His father just wanted him to do as much kid stuff as possible so he can be a kid again. Carl didn't mind acting like a kid, but he wasn't a kid. His father needed to accept it.

"Dad, can I just go out there with Wilmur."

"Carl-"

"Dad, I'm sick of letting him put himself at risk every single day. I want to protect him. He protects me all the time. I would never live with myself if I didn't protect him if he dies!"

Rick sighed and placed a hand on Carl's neck and gently rubbed it. He hated getting his son in trouble. He understood why Carl wanted to protect Wilmur, but he couldn't lose him.

"I would get sick of you going out there and Wilmur would, too. This is your job anyway." Rick reassured, trying to make Carl feel better.

"My job is to farm?"

"Yep."

With that, Rick walked off to do the snares, leaving Carl to take care of the animals and plants. Carl sighed and threw the whole piece of bread in the pig's pin. He had to save some of it from the other pig's so Violet could have some. Violet was barely alive. He needed all the food he could get.

After taking care of the pigs, he walked to the growing plants. They were growing carrots, cucumbers, lettuce, beans, wheat, and broccoli. The cucumbers were ready to be collected, but he wouldn't collect without his father's permission. The carrots were halfway done as well as the lettuce. The beans, wheat, and broccoli still needed time to grow.

He watered the plants and thickened the soil before walking back to the pig's pin. He watched the still Violet. She was still alive, but barely. She was half-dead.

"Hey, Carl." Patrick walked up to him and he rolled his blue eyes. All he wanted to do was to watch Violet and think about Wilmur, but Patrick always interrupted everything.

"What?" Carl accidently asked with an annoyed voice.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked.

"Just go away." Carl said. Normally, he would suck it up, but he really didn't want to deal with Patrick right now.

Patrick didn't go away. Instead, he stepped closer to Carl, close enough to feel Patrick's warmth transfer to Carl. Uncomfortable, Carl pushed away, but Patrick wouldn't let him go. He touched Carl's slim side, feeling him. An unfamiliar feeling was sent through Carl's veins. He didn't know what it was, but he certainly didn't like it.

"Patrick."

"Yes?" Patrick said in his ear, still smiling.

"Let go of me." Carl said, trying to pull away, but Patrick wouldn't let go.

Patrick took a hold of Carl's hand and squeezed it gently. No one did that to Carl. Only Wilmur. Wilmur was the only one allowed to touch him like this. Anything else is just a force. Patrick gently pushed Carl up against the pig's pin wall. Carl was now facing him. Carl was glaring at him, still trying to pull away.

"Stop. Let go of me." Carl snapped when Patrick touched his neck.

Patrick didn't listen and leaned in, but luckily, Hershel interrupted.

"What's goin' on?"

All Hershel saw was Patrick forcefully pushing Carl against the wall. Carl was trying to pull away and he was angry. Patrick was too close to Carl's lips. Carl was trying to turn his head to block the lips. He was pinned against the wall.

Hershel hopped with his prostatic and actual leg. He grabbed Patrick and gently pulled him off Carl. Patrick looked disappointed while Carl looked relieved. Carl was never touched like that before, besides Wilmur. But no one ever forced him to do anything. Wilmur had tried to have love with him, but Carl said he wasn't ready and Wilmur listened.

He would never force Carl to do anything.

"Go back to the prison. I'll be with you soon." Hershel demanded and Patrick obeyed.

Carl watched as Patrick went on his way. If Carl's honest with himself, he was shaking. Touches from someone else made him feel uncomfortable. He can't help but think what would've happened if Hershel hadn't came.

Hershel looked at Carl, who was shaking. Patrick had frightened the boy a little. Hershel doesn't know what Rick would do if he figured out, but he knew Wilmur would kill Patrick if he found out.

"Are you okay?" Hershel asked, placing both of his hands on Carl's shoulders.

It took a minute for Carl to answer. He was still shaking. It actually wasn't surprising Patrick done something like this to him. He wanted to be with Carl for a long time.

If only Wilmur were here. He would've probably already killed Patrick. He would be holding Carl right now. A kiss would be placed on his lips, but Wilmur wasn't here. He never really was anymore. If only he went on the run with him...

"Why don't you go play around. I'll take care of the farming."

Carl smiled weakly and nodded before walking across the field. He wondered if he should tell Wilmur or not. It might be a mistake. It might not be a mistake. With Rick, it wouldn't matter. But with Wilmur, it will. It wouldn't just cause huge conflicts between Patrick and Wilmur, but it would also cause many arguments Rick and Wilmur.

Rick doesn't do anything about Patrick, Wilmur would be mad.

The shaking teen picked up a soccer ball and kicked it around. Without Wilmur and not doing his job, there was really nothing to do. All the kids here were younger than him, besides Patrick. Wilmur was older than him as well, but he didn't count.

With rage, Carl kicked the ball so hard that it flew far in the distance. Then he stormed off after it again. He kept doing the same thing over and over again until Patrick catched the ball.

"Hey, Carl."

With more rage, he yanked the soccer ball away from Patrick. He couldn't stand Patrick anymore. He could now understand why Wilmur was so protective over him when Patrick was near them.

"Get the hell away from me." Carl snapped walking away with Patrick following.

"Where you goin'?" Patrick asked.

"It's none of your business!" Carl snapped.  
"It does. Come here."  
"No! I don't wanna be near you ever again!"  
"Come on, Carl!"  
"No!"

The two boys ended up near four kids named. Three of them were girls. Two of the girls had blonde hair while the other one had brown. The other one was a boy with curly, brown hair. They were naming walkers piled up against the fences.

"Nick, look over here."  
"This one's Wayne."  
"Nick."  
"Nick, over here."  
"Hi, Nick!"

Carl sighed angrily. He's already dealed with enough. He needed to take his anger out on someone. He couldn't do it to Wilmur because he loved him. Rick would get him in trouble. Patrick wouldn't care. Hopefully, the kids would work.

"You're naming them?" Carl walked up on them.

The youngest blonde smiled and turned around. The youngest blonde was Mika. Wilmur collected barbies to give her while on runs. Lizzie, the oldest blonde, was Mika's older sister. He didn't know the other two children.

"Well, one of them has a name tag, so we thought all of them should." Mika responded.

"They had names when they were alive. They're dead now."  
"No, they're not. They're just different." Lizzie said.

What was she thinking? Did she not understand they were dead? Has she not seen anyone die like that? Was it too much for her to accept? Does she know what those things do to other people?

"The hell are you talking about?! Okay, they don't talk. They don't think. They eat people. They kill people." Carl said angrily. If he wasn't angry at Patrick right now, he wouldn't have even bothered them.

"People kill people. They still have names." Lizzie pointed out.

"Have you seen what happens? Have you seen someone die like that?"

Lizzie glared at Carl. She couldn't stand the people who acted like they were all smart. She couldn't stand it with Justin. People were much better when they were walkers. They didn't act like Justin or Carl.

"Yeah, I have."

Carl glared at Lizzie. She was acting smart as well.

"They're not people and they're not pets. Don't name them." Carl growled.

Lizzie looked at the other hurt children. Carl's anger worked. He just needed to get it off his chest. Or else Wilmur would know something's up when he gets back.

"We're suppose to go read. Come on." Lizzie said, walking off with two children but Mika stayed behind.

Carl's eyes softened when it was just her. She was the innocent one. She was the smart one. She knew what walkers were. He could tell. All she was is an innocent, scared child in a scary world. One of the rare ones. He wasn't directly talking to her.

"You coming to story time tonight?" Mika asked Patrick, forcing Carl to hold back his giggles. A fifteen-year-old listening to little kid stories.

"Uh, yeah."

Mika smiled a bright one like the moon. No one really has a smile that bright anymore. Sometimes, Carl and Wilmur can smile brightly, but not as much as Mika. Wilmur always said Carl's smile is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, but Carl denies it.

Patrick looked back at him after Mika walked away. His cheeks were covered with pink. It wasn't just from being discovered he goes to story time, but also because he loved Carl.

Carl couldn't help but smile at Patrick. It was funny that he was going to story time. Wilmur would laugh at Carl if he figured he was going to story time. Same thing with Carl.

"I go sometimes. I'm immature."

Carl stopped smiling when he heard Patrick's voice. His voice made him sick. Patrick was nothing but a stubborn rapist who tried to force Carl to do things.

Wilmur would be angry if he figured it out. But it would continue while Wilmur and Rick wasn't there. Carl would have to be prepared for it to happen again.

"Army came in and put these fences up. Made it a place for the people to go to." Daryl said with Wilmur and Bob standing beside him. "Last week when we spotted this place, there was a bunch of walkers behind this chain-link keeping people out like a bunch of guard dogs."

Sounds like Woodbury.

Wilmur was still recovering from his father did to him. There was a lot of scars left from his father. Carl had helped get rid a whole ton of them, but many were still left. Every time he sees Carl, his world would be focused on nothing but him. Carl's arms would hold him when he cries. Carl's hands would soothe his entire tensed body. He would look into Carl's eyes for reassurance. And his lips would tell him that everything was okay. Carl's lips would remind him that he gained another person to love.

"Give a listen." Sasha said.

He suddenly heard music in the distance. He smiled and gave his head a shake before looking at Sasha. She was always good at sneaking around. She had good ways to survive.

The music suddenly gave him a memory. He remembered a month ago how he got Carl a MP3 player. They played it really loud and danced to it all night. It made all of the people in the prison mad.

"I don't know if it works or not." Wilmur said, staring down at the blue MP3 player. "But I got a battery for it."

Carl smiled and took the MP3 player from his hands, smiling before placing a kiss on Wilmur's lips.

"I love it. Whether it works or not, I love it."

Wilmur smiled and wrapped his arms around his lover's body, placing a kiss on his soft hair, dragging the kiss all the way down Carl's face and to his lips. The kiss was gentle at first, but then it grew into an intense and rough kiss. Their tongues were fighting like wrestlers do, refusing to give up.

Sadly, they had to pull away for breath. They're faces were just barely away. All they could see was each other's beautiful eyes.

"I love you so much." Wilmur whispered.

Carl smiled and placed his lips back on Wilmur's lips. However, before the kiss could grow stronger, Wilmur pulled away. He always did it to tease Carl around.

Carl whined and Wilmur laughed.

"Sorry, but we have music to dance to." Wilmur laughed, placing the new battery in the MP3 player.

Carl smiled and placed a kiss on Wilmur's cheek. Wilmur smiled and kissed Carl back on the cheek. Carl did the same thing again and then Wilmur did the same again.

Just as he was about to do it again, music busted out loudly. Wilmur laughed and walked over to a table with a Bluetooth on it.

"Oh, God." Carl said, widening his eyes a little.

Wilmur laughed. "This is gonna be loud."

And it was true. The second Wilmur plugged the MP3 player to the Bluetooth, it busted out louder than last time. It was so loud, it vibrated the floor and caused Carl to stumble backwards. He accidently tripped over his own self. He could feel himself falling to the ground, but arms wrap around him and pulled him right back up.

"My life flashed before my eyes." Carl joked and Wilmur laughed before placing his lips back on Carl.

"Shall we dance?" Wilmur asked.

Carl laughed and placed one more kiss on Wilmur's lips before nodding. Wilmur shifted him all the way back up and wrapped his arm around Carl's waist, pulling him closer. Their faces were just inches away.

"There's a place..." The song sung.

"I've been looking for That took me in and out of buildings behind windows, walls, and doors

And I thought I found it"

"This song is already reminding me of you." Wilmur said, placing a gentle kiss to Carl's lips before they continued dancing.

"Couple times even settled down

And I'd hang around

Just long enough to find my way back out

I know now

That the place that I was tryin' to reach was you right here in front of me"

The song was telling to truth. Wilmur had been lookin for a place. The right place to settle down. Of course, he found the prison, the right place he was looking for. But what he was really looking for was Carl Grimes. The boy right in front of him.

"And I wouldn't change a thing

I'd walk right back t hrough the rain

Back to every broken heart on the day that it was breaking

And I'd relive all the years

And be thankful for the tears

I've cried with every stumble step that led to you

And got me, here"

"Yep, this song definitely reminds me of you." Wilmur said, smiling.

Carl blushed, but it faded away once everyone in the cellblock started to scream. Everyone was angry. Did they not realize how hard they have to work during the day?

But they were the ones who didn't understand. Wilmur and Carl barely got to see each other. It was important to have private moments like the one they were having right now.

"It was amazing

What I let my heart go through"

That part surely showed what Wilmur and Justin's heart been through. It was shocking that the heart of Wilmur turned into he heart of Justin, but then Carl came into it and got rid of Justin's heart and threw Wilmur's back in.

"To get me where it got me in this moment here with you

And it passed me by

God knows how many times

I was so caught up in holding what I never thought I'd f ind"

Everything in the song was true about Wilmur and Carl. Wilmur was so caught up in Justin. Yet, he'd never think that he would find love again. He never expected to find Carl.

"I know now

There's a million roads I had to take

To get me in your arms this way"

The song was right again. It took a million roads for Wilmur to get to Carl.

"And I wouldn't change a thing

I'd walk right back through the rain

Back to every broken heart on the day that it was breaking"

A women suddenly busted in their cell and turned the Bluetooth off before grabbing the MP3 player and throwing it in Carl's face. Carl just laughed and Wilmur did, too.

"Hey, we were dancing to Rascal Flatts." Carl said, laughing.

"I don't care! We were sleeping!" The women yelled before walking out. Everyone else had gathered around their cell with grumpy and angry faces. As soon as the women walked out, everyone else followed her.

"Well, that sucked." Carl said, bowing his head to the ground. The laughter and music and dancing was over.

"Hey, we can still have a good time."

Carl laughed and pressed his lips against Wilmur's.

"Having you here is enough for me."

Wilmur laughed at the memory. Everyone's faces looked so funny! He can still remember how that lady smashed on their Bluetooth and how she threw the MP3 player at Carl. The women was so angry. How could she be so angry when him and Carl were so happy?

"What's so funny?" Daryl asked, noticing his son's laugh.

Daryl's adoptive son shook his head. "Nothing. Just remembering something."

Daryl chuckled and placed a hand on Wilmur's shoulder. It must've been something about Carl. He's he only one who always is able to make Wilmur laugh. He was happy to have a happy son. He was happy him and Carl were together. If him and Carl weren't together, then Wilmur wouldn't be Wilmur. He'd still be Justin.

Bob's whistle brought Daryl back to reality.

"Alright, let's make a sweep." Daryl said, stepping through the hole in the fence Sasha had cut. "Make sure it's safe. Grab what you can. We'll come back tomorrow with more people."

Wilmur held his gun up, clicking the safety off. When he stepped in one of the many military tents surrounding the place, he sees five dead bodies. Two of the soldiers had ammo. It was three guns and two knives. Wilmur placed the weapons in his bag before stepping out into the hot sunlight again. Another tent had another dead body with one bullet. After taking the bullet, he jumped out again like he did with the other one.

It's not that he's scared, they just reminded him of Milton. His dead friend who tried to save Andrea. He missed Andrea. He missed how she always tried to avoid violence. He missed how she tried to protect him from his dangerous father. He missed how she treated him like a son. If she lived, she'd see the success the prison made. She'd be proud.

Wilmur flinched when someone tapped on his shoulder, making him spun around and fly his gun up, but lowered it when he realized it was just Zach.

"Whoa. Whoa. It's just me." Zach smiled and Wilmur smiled, too. The two teenagers make their way over to the storage building. Wilmur took a seat on the left side of Daryl.

Daryl banged on the window. It was to attract walkers if there was any in there. It was to check for walkers. "Just give it a second."

"Okay, I think I got it." Zach said, taking a seat on the right side of Daryl.

"Got what?" Wilmur and Michonne asked at the same time.

"I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn." Zach replied.

"He's been trying to guess for, like, six weeks." Daryl said.

Wilmur laughed. If Wilmur was in the game, he'd probably already guessed it.

"Yeah, I'm pacing myself." Zach joked. "One shot a day."

"Alright, shoot." Daryl said, causing Wilmur to chuckle. Zach couldn't do it.

"Well, the way you are at the prison, you being on the council, you're able to track, you're helping people, but you're still being kind of...surly."

Wilmur chuckled again and shook his head. Zach was such a funny guy. No wonder Beth liked him so much.

"Homicide cop." Zach joked again.

Michonne suddenly started to laugh, making everyone smile bigger.

"What's so funny?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing." Michonne replied, still laughing. "It makes perfect sense."

"Actually, you are right." Daryl said. "Undercover."

Zach and Wilmur give Daryl a disappointed look.

"Come on, really?" Zach asked, disappointed.  
"Yep."  
"Dude, come on, really?"

Daryl gave off a serious expression. Undercover really was it. Wilmur couldn't wait to tell Carl about it if he gets home.

They sit in awkward silence before clearing their throats and shifting slightly.

"Okay." Zach said. "I'll just keep guessing, I guess."

A walker suddenly slammed against the window. Wilmur doesn't even flinch. He knew it was going to happen when their conversation was over. Everyone pushed themselves off their sitting position and clicked the safety off their guns.

"We're gonna do this, detective?" Michonne teased Daryl.

"Let's do it."

Sasha and Tyreese open the door, holding their guns up. Tyreese pulled a body out of the way to clear the view. Wilmur looked in and smiled when he saw the perfect for Carl. It wasn't comics, but it's something he will like.

"Alright," Sasha began to say. "We go in, stay in the formation for the sweep. After that, you all know what you're suppose to look for, right Wilmur?"

Wilmur blushed. She knew he was going to sneak out a souvenir for Carl.

"Hey, I do it because-" Wilmur's interrupted.

"We all know." Sasha interrupted, giggling. Everyone else giggled with her. Glenn did the most. Glenn understood Wilmur's love for Carl. Glenn felt the same toward Maggie. They both try to sneak out things for their lovers. Sasha usually teased about Carl, but she loved the relationship between him and Carl. Love was one of the rare things left from the old world. It made Sasha happy every time they found one of those normal things.

"Any questions?" Sasha asked before they step in the building.

Each of the partners take their turns stepping in. Sasha and Tyreese went first. Next, it was Glenn, Bob, and Zach. Then it was Daryl and Wilmur. The first thing Wilmur headed to was the gift for Carl. It was a camera, and it actually worked. Wilmur and Carl can take pictures and post it on their walls. Their lives could now be written in pictures. If him and Carl's love story was recorded in history, he'd want a picture of them together.

A noise is followed by after stuffing the camera in his bag. Wilmur flinched and yanked his gun out of his holster and aiming it toward the noise. He sat there for two minutes before accepting nothing was there. He placed his gun back in his holster and walked over to the shelves canned food.

Wilmur grabbed the cans with food in them. That was corn and beans. He stopped when he ran across something he liked himself. Smiling, he grabbed the can and looked down at it, chuckling.

"It's been awhile." Wilmur chuckled.

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing. Just my favorite canned food."

Daryl smiled and took it from him, looking down at the label.

"Peaches?"

Wilmur smiled and grabbed the can from him and threw it in his bag. "I love peaches. I haven't eaten them in forever." Wilmur said. Daryl smiled and gave his head a shake before walking to his own little shelf. Wilmur stopped along a shelf with a frame with a picture of a family in it. There was a mother, a father, an older brother, and a younger sister.

It reminded him of his family. He missed his dear mother and loving sister. Usually, Wilmur was too busy to think about them. He was either busy on a run or busy with Carl. He didn't take time to realize the objects that his family liked. His mother liked jewelry and his sister liked dolls. Everyone would find it weird that he would be keeping this stuff in his cell, but he didn't give a damn. He needed something to remind him he still had a family.

He walked to shelf with toys. He grabbed the barbies and stuffed them in his bag. They were for Mika. She loved to play with barbies. He ran across a shelf with a ton of dolls. Penny liked porcelain dolls. She liked the type of stuff from the past. He had to find the perfect doll though. Penny didn't just like any doll.

Finally, he found the perfect one and gently placed it in his bag. Then he made his way over to the shelves with jewelry. His mother liked diamonds and rubies. He grabbed a ruby necklace and a diamond bracelet.

"Wilmur?" Daryl said, walking up on him.

Before Daryl could say anything else, a loud crashing noise can be heard. Glass could be heard shattering all over the floor and wood was slamming on the floor. A scream of pain was heard. Wilmur and Daryl looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Shit." Wilmur said before him and Daryl run to the noise.

Everyone ran to the same shelf. It had beer bottles on it, but the shelf had fell down and the beer bottles did, too. Bob was stuck under the shelf with shattered glass stuck in his skin. Wilmur bended down to see Bob with his eyes wide open in fear.

"You okay? Did you get cut?" Wilmur asked.

"No, man, but my foot is caught!" Bob said, some moans slipping through his words.

"Alright, he's just caught. Come on, help me." Wilmur said, trying to lift up the heavy shelf. Daryl, Tyreese, and Zach help Wilmur push the heavy shelf back up.

"What happened?!" Glenn yelled from somewhere.

"Everyone's alright! We're over here in the wine and beer!" Zach yelled back.

Wilmur grunted while pushed the shelf up, stumbling a little bit under it's weight. Some glass left on the shelf landed on Wilmur's face. It didn't scrape or cut his skin, but some did land on Bob and cut him.

"You okay?" Wilmur asked Bob.

"I was moving fast, man." Bob responded. "I drove right into the drinks."

"Come on." Wilmur said, offering him a hand. Just as Bob was about to grab his hand, a walker fell from the ceiling, getting caught in the air from part of the roof, hanging. Wilmur jumped up with his gun yanked out of his holster.

"No, stop!" Daryl yelled just as another walker fell from the ceiling.

"Bob!" Wilmur yelled, bending to him, desperately trying to pull him from below the shelf. He wasn't going to lose him today. They just got him last week! Bob couldn't die on his first run! They couldn't lose now! They've gone 30 days without an accident!

"Come on, come on!" Wilmur grunted while pulling Bob's arm. Bob yelped in pain when Wilmur pulled too hard, causing his shoulder bone to pop and damaging his caught foot.

"Alright, Bob. I can't do this by myself. You're gonna have to push yourself."

More walkers from the ceiling and land on shelves, knocking them over. Some just splattered on the floor. Some got hung in the air. Eventually, enough walkers would fall down to expose the wrecked helicopter on the roof. And soon, the entire roof would collapse. Screaming and yelping could be heard. The sound of blood was splattering the floor. Walker snarls and moans could be heard everywhere.

"I-I can't!"  
"You can!"  
"I can't!"  
"You can, just do it!"

A walker suddenly fell from the ceiling again and landed right on Wilmur's back, knocking him down.

"Keep pushing yourself!" Wilmur yelled, struggling against the walker. He desperately tried to reach for the gun he had dropped. However, it's hard due to the walker's hands smashing down on his wrists. He grunted and tried his best to shove the walker off him, but it didn't work.

The walker's teeth were too close to Wilmur's nose. All he could see was it's chomping mouth. The only thing he could hear was the walker's angry snarls. He pressed his fingers into the walker's throat, squirting out blood. The throat spewed out blood and his mouth poured blood. Blood was splattered all over Wilmur's face.

Finally, he managed to smash a piece of glass into the Walker's throat, causing his head to fall right off. The body fell off his body. The only thing left of the walker was the head. He scrambled for his knife and smashed it into the walker's soft skull before letting the knife clatter to the ground.

"Idiot."

Gunfire could be heard over his word. Everything always eventually goes bad for them. You couldn't go forever without an accident. Andrea was right. No one could make it alone now.

"Hey!" Bob said, trying to grab Wilmur's attention.

"Keep pushing!" Wilmur yelled, shooting down the walkers, not missing once.

"Hey!" Bob yelled, this time calling for help. Wilmur spunned around and sent a bullet through a walker that was trying to get to Bob. The walker collapsed to the ground, it's hand still clutching Bob's hand.

When he turned around, a walker was on top of him again. However, before he could even fight it, Zach shot it down. Zach's gun was almost out of bullets. He already killed a bunch of walkers hanging from the ceiling and they all landed on him.

"Get Bob!" Zach yelled. Wilmur nodded slightly, turning back to the shelf and lifting it back up with Zach while Daryl desperately tried to pull Bob out of the trap.

"You're okay." Wilmur reassured when he saw the shocked look on Bob's face. He wrapped an arm around him to keep him from collapsing. Wilmur handed another gun to Daryl, nodding to him. Him and Zach had to cover for them, but Zach wasn't able to.

A walker had already grabbed Zach's foot chewed it up.

"No!"

But it was too late.

Zach was already on the floor with the flesh being torn from his neck.

Zach's screams were the last thing Wilmur heard when they run out of the building just before the roof collapsed.

At least he died fast.

Carl just snuck around the prison, thinking about what Patrick did to him. Also thinking about what would happen when Wilmur found out. If he finds out. Wilmur very well might not come back. He can't stand the thought of Daryl coming back without Wilmur. He risks his life every time he goes out there. If Wilmur was allowed to protect, then why couldn't he?

Carl couldn't live without Wilmur. Wilmur was a huge portion of his life and if he died...that huge portion of his life would be yanked away from him. It would be the worst feeling he'll ever feel. A giant hole would be left with no one to fill it back up. No one could ever replace Wilmur. The hole in his heart would kill him.

The young teen sighed and walked to the library for story time. Even though Patrick was there, he still might as well try to be a kid. Besides, his father told him to go to story time. He'll probably ask Carol if he went there.

He stepped in to see Carol talking somewhat suspiciously. Her eyes had a look of worry and warnings. Carol was too strong to be worried about warnings. She had strengthened over time. She somehow was too strong in a way, but you have to be strong in a world filled with zombies and terrible people.

Once the man was out of the room, Carol shut the book she was reading. Carl quickly hid in the shadows behind the bookshelf. Peaking, he can see Carol pulling out a box filled with knives. Why did the box have knives instead of books?

"Ma'am, can I take watch now?" A young boy asked.

Carol gave a simple nod before turning her attention back to the children. "Today, we are talking about knives; how to use them, how to be safe with them, and how they could save your life."

Of course, Carl understood why she was teaching the children how to survive. After all, she wasn't teaching them how to be monsters. She was teaching them how to survive. He would probably do the same.

But...Patrick was in her class. What if he learned how to use a weapon and used it against Carl to force him to do things. Patrick would do anything to get Carl. Maybe it was best to tell Wilmur. The problem was Wilmur would kill him and then there'd be conflict between Wilmur and the prison.

Just as Carol was about to pass out the knives, Patrick interrupted like he always does.

"Ma'am, may I be dismissed?" He asked.  
"What is it?" Carol asked.  
"I'm not feeling very well."

"Sometimes you're gonna have to fight through it. What if you wind up out there alone? You give up just because you're feeling bad?" Carol said strictly.

She was right. He didn't mind her teaching children how to survive, but how would Hershel react to it? And if he told his father, he would certainly tell Hershel about it. If Rick didn't agree to it, then he should definitely not allow it to go on any longer. He didn't want to lie to his father.

"No, it's just...I don't wanna yack on somebody."

"Go." Carol said sternly and he quickly ran out. He was probably just eager to find Carl.

Once Patrick was gone, Carol continued her lesson.

"Okay, today we're gonna learn how to hold a knife, how to stab and slash and where to aim for-" She cuts herself off when Carl stepped out of the shadows.

Carol sighed. Now her secret was at risk. She had to teach the children how to survive or they would eventually die. She knew they couldn't stay in the prison forever.

"Please, don't tell your father." Carol begged.

Carl shook his head and walked out. He wasn't angry or frustrated. He was just upset he had to lie to his father. He hadn't done it much ever since they started to get along.

"I'm worried about what Beth's gonna say." Wilmur said, still trying to wipe the tears away from his cheeks. He didn't want Carl to see him cry. He just wanted to have a relaxing night with him.

Daryl turned the engine off and stepped off the motorcycle with Wilmur following. He followed Daryl to the cell. His adoptive father was upset. When he was upset, he ignored everyone and kept to himself. When they were in the cellblock, Daryl turned to Wilmur.

"Let me handle Beth. You can handle Carl."

Wilmur sighed sadly and nodded. He walked out of the cellblock and opened a gate that lead to a room with a phone. Turning to the right he squeezed through a small door and then through another one on the left. He walked down the dark hall until he stopped at the window with moon shining through.

There, sat the same boy, Carl.

Wilmur put on his best fake smile, but it was hard because someone just died, and now Carl was going to figure out someone important died. Carl looked up and smiled at the sight of Wilmur. The day was hard and exhausting. He was glad to finally relax with his lover.

The older teen sat next to Carl, wrapping an arm around him. Carl gently rested his head against Wilmur's shoulder as his lover stroke his long, soft hair. Carl closed his eyes at the feeling.

"I have so much I need to tell you." Carl said.

"Me, too. I'll go first."

It was important to get it out of the way. He just wanted Carl to feel better as fast as he can. The night was suppose to be relaxing, but the walkers have to ruin everything.

Wilmur gently rubbed Carl's back, his breath shaking from nervousness.

"Zach...he-he..." Wilmur trailed off.

It took ten seconds for Carl to see what he was talking about. Tears slowly drip down Carl's rosy cheeks, soaking into Wilmur's neck. Wilmur sighed and rubbed Carl's back softer. He hated it when his lover was sad. All he wished is for Carl to be happy.

Carl sobs grew louder in Wilmur's neck. Tears were slipping through Wilmur's shirt, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for Carl to feel better.

Wilmur's hand slipped under Carl's shirt and traveled up his back, but stopped when he felt something big. It was like a bump, but it was much softer. Every time he touched it, Carl winced.

"Stop."

Slowly, Wilmur pushed Carl's shirt up to see the bruise on his back. He let go of the shirt and it fell. Then he rolled up Carl's sleeves to see a few bruises on his arms.

A pathetic idiot in the prison was hurting his lover! No one was allowed to hurt his lover!

Wilmur looked at Carl softly, gently rubbing the bruises.

"Carl, who did this?" Wilmur asked softly. He didn't want to show his anger. He was really mad someone hurt his boyfriend.

His lover pulled away and pulled his sleeves back down. He knew Wilmur would figure it out, he just didn't expect him to be so calm about it. He expected anger and rage.

Wilmur, however, was really angry. He wasn't here to protect Carl from the monster. Someone had hurt his boyfriend while he wasn't there. He wondered how long it was going on.

"I-I can't tell." Carl said, causing Wilmur to lean in and capture Carl's lips. It was to make Carl feel better and to reassure Wilmur. Again, the kiss was gentle but grew passionate and tender. He needed to let Carl know he can trust him.

The taste of Wilmur's lips land on Carl's taste buds, activating them and sending the same warmth down through his steamy veins. The kiss got Carl confidante. No matter what, Wilmur will still love and protect him.

Finally, Wilmur pulled away, resting his forehead against Carl's, looking into his eyes.

"Who?" He asked again.

Carl placed his hand over Wilmur's, letting the warmth of his hand warm his.

"P-Patrick."

Wilmur yanked away, staring at Carl with wide eyes. He didn't expect Patrick to do something to him. Why would Patrick do that to someone he desperately wanted to be with.

Suddenly, Wilmur froze.

There was a reason for it.

Slowly, Wilmur grabbed Carl's smaller hands and pulled them to his face, kissing them gently.

"Carl, he didn't force you to do anything, did he?"

That was when Carl froze, making Wilmur angry toward Patrick.

"What?! What did he do?!" Wilmur yelled. No one was allowed to touch Carl except him!

Carl flinched and shook his head. "N-nothing."

Wilmur yanked Carl's hands back to his face, holding them close. "No! What did he do?!"

His voice just kept growing louder and louder, but he didn't care. He was going to get it out of Carl one way or another. Meanwhile, Carl was sitting there thinking it'd be a mistake telling him.

"Carl!"

"H-he pushed be against the wall and touched me! I couldn't fight him off!"

"Tell him no! Tell him you don't to!" Wilmur yelled, he couldn't believe Patrick touched his lover.

"I-I did! He wouldn't listen!"

Wilmur froze, slowly calming down. Carl couldn't fight off a desperate, fifteen-year-old boy. Carl was under something sexual.

"Carl, that's sexual assault."

Carl bowed down his head shamefully, but Wilmur pushed his chin back up, smashing his lips onto his. The kiss was gentle and no more. Slowly, he trailed off Carl's mouth and kissed along Carl's cheek, leading to his neck. Wilmur gently kissed his neck, rubbing Carl's back.

"Hey, tomorrow I'll talk some sense into him. But anytime you want, you say the word and I'll kill him. I won't though. Not unless you want me to."

Carl nodded and gently kissed Wilmur's lips.

"Why don't we leave. I can tell your exhausted."

Carl shook his head. "N-no. I wanna stay here. Can we-can we please sleep together?"

The older lover sighed quietly and brushed Carl's brown hair away from his face before kissing his forehead. Wilmur laid down and opened his arms, motioning Carl to fall in them. Carl smiled against Wilmur's chest, closing his eyes and falling into a dreamless sleep.

Tomorrow, Wilmur would talk to Patrick. He would possibly have to beat him up and probably get yelled at for it. Then he'd have to talk to Rick about it. Wilmur will stay clear of the next run and stay to shield Carl away from Patrick.

Little did he know, Patrick would be dead in the morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Bristling Rocks

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Wilmur said, playing with Carl's hair.

Carl grunted and buried his face in Wilmur's chest. He wished he could stay with Wilmur all day. He liked it much better than farming all day with no break. His father was about to get him in trouble. Once he realizes Carl isn't in his bunker, he'll be angry.

"Wake up, beautiful."

"Can't we just stay here?" Carl's voice was muffled into Wilmur's chest.

Wilmur sighed and gently stroked Carl's soft hair. He wanted to stay with him just as much as Carl wanted to stay with him. No one really understood how much they needed each other. Rick especially. He expected Carl to do work all day and be exhausted by the time he got back. Wilmur hated how much Carl was exhausted by the end of the day. If he could talk to Rick about reducing Carl's work hours, then he would look much better at the end of the day.

"Please..." Carl pleaded.

The older lover sighed again and gently pushed Carl off him. It would be a long and exhausting day. First, he had to try and convince Daryl to keep him out of the next run. Then he has to talk to Rick about Carl's work hours which would lead to an argument. And he also has to deal with Patrick.

Patrick.

The stupid teenage boy who touched Carl...pushed him against the wall and tried to force him to do things. Wilmur would never do those things to Carl! Not unless Carl wanted it!

But Carl doesn't want it. He wasn't ready. Wilmur can accept it, but Patrick can't. Nor he can accept him and Carl being together. He was like one of those happy, yet desperate rapist. Carl was his! And if Patrick can't see it, then he'll make him.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go. Tonight, I promise I'm all yours." Wilmur reassured, placing his lips against Carl's before gently stroking his cheek. "I'm gonna talk to Patrick today. Unless you want me to kill him."

Carl gave his head a shake against Wilmur's neck. "N-no. It's fine."

Wilmur smiled, wrapping an arm around Carl's waist and pulling him up. "Come on, let's go."

Carl sighed. "Oh, shit. M-my dad..."

The older lover smiled and placed his lips against Carl's cheek. Rick was very strict toward Carl when it came to working. Carl may understand what his father was doing but Wilmur didn't. Carl wasn't a child and never will be again. They've both went through too many horrors to be a child. There was no such thing as an adult or child anymore. It's just about people surviving.

Rick couldn't see it. He couldn't see or accept his son wasn't a child no more.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame." Wilmur reassured, still smiling.

"My dad's gonna kill you." Carl joked, giggling slightly.

Wilmur smiled and chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair. "I can handle Rick. Same thing with Patrick. You just worry about yourself."

Carl smiled and leaned in, capturing Wilmur's lips.

The kiss was gentle and innocent at first, but grew stronger and stronger. The taste of their lips sent a warmth traveling through all their blood veins and vessels. The hunger grew stronger, but nothing could satisfy it. It just made them want more and more. The kiss grew too strong that it caused Wilmur to push Carl gently up against the wall.

The younger lover gripped onto Wilmur's hair while Wilmur gripped onto Carl's waist. Their tongues were in a wrestling match, taking away their breaths. Eventually, Wilmur pulled away so they could both breathe, but only wanted more. Carl whined and leaned in again. Only for Wilmur to dodge and kiss Carl's neck instead.

"We have to go." Carl gasped, still out of breath.

The two lovers kiss one last time on their swollen lips before walking out of their 'secret spot.' Wilmur smiled and took Carl's hand into his as they walked into cellblock C. Rick was in the room, his back against the hard wall. Frustration was visible in his eyes. The frown was enough to tell them Rick was angry.

Rick snapped his head up when he heard footsteps. Wilmur and Carl were standing in the cell way. Both of their lips were swollen and their hands were holding each others.

"Where have you been?" Rick asked Carl angrily.

"I-um...I..." Carl bowed his head down shamefully. It seemed like everything he does disappointed his father.

"It was my fault." Wilmur defended Carl. "I took him somewhere in the prison and we got lost."

Rick squinted his eyes toward Wilmur. They've discovered every spot in the prison. How could they get lost? Wilmur was obviously defending for his son.

"Oh, really?" Rick questioned. He was testing Wilmur to tell the truth.

"Yes." Wilmur lied.

Rick glared at Wilmur and then his son. They were both lying, and he hated lies. All they led to was trouble. So many people had lied to him in the past. Some of the loved ones and some of the hated ones. Lori had lied to him about Shane. The Governor did. People they've run across while on the road.

The entire world was filled with nothing but lies.

Rick softened his eyes when he looked at his son. "Carl, can you please go get ready?"

Once Carl left the room, his eyes glared again. Wilmur was glaring, too. The glare in Rick's eyes immiedently told Wilmur an another argument was to come.

"You know I hate liars." Rick said, taking a menacing step toward Wilmur.

"It wasn't a lie." Wilmur replied. "I was defending for Carl over something stupid you would get him in trouble for."

Rick glared. "He knows he's suppose to get up for work every morning. I have every right to punish Carl."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Wilmur questioned. "Have you taken a look at Carl? He's exhausted. He overworks himself way too much. You need to give him a break."

Rick gave his head a shake. It was his decision with what to do with Carl. Wilmur couldn't decide it. Michonne couldn't decide it. If he wanted Carl to work in the fields then he wanted Carl to work in the fields. No one was allowed to tell him otherwise. Hershel would agree. It was his idea for Carl to work in the fields.

"Hershel wants him in the fields. That's his job." Rick said, still glaring.

"Who cares what he says?! You're his father! Not Hershel!" Wilmur yelled.

"Yeah, that's right." Rick agreed. "And I want him in the fields."

"So you want to keep exhausting Carl?" Wilmur questioned. "He's tired, Rick. I know you want him to be a child, but he's tired. At least give him some days off. He can't work all the time, you know?"

Rick kept glaring. He hated when someone told him what to do with his son. Carl's job was to work in the fields and he had to do it. Each of them had a job to do. Each of them made the prison a better place. Carl couldn't be missing out on the job. If his son was so tired, he wanted to hear it from him.

All Wilmur wanted was for Carl to live happily. Working too hard everyday wouldn't make him happy. Carl even sprained some of his bones because he works too hard. Being hurt was the last thing they needed.

"You're just gonna have to deal with it, Wilmur. In the real world, you don't get a breath."

Wilmur shot a glare toward Rick. He knew what Rick said was true, but he was torturing his son. He wasn't trying to survive, he was being tortured by his own father.

"No, Rick. You're torturing him. Take a look at him and then you'll understand." Wilmur said with a frustrated tone. Rick was just too stubborn. He always thought he was right. If Rick has an idea, he'll go for it. Nothing will stop him or change his mind. Even if it was causing someone pain.

"I'm not torturing him. He's just doing his job."

Wilmur sighed with frustration. "You're not always right, Rick."

"You're not either."

Wilmur sighed again and put the back of his head against the hard wall. He couldn't get Rick to listen. He was just too filled of himself. Once Rick thought he was right, there was nothing anyone could do to change what he thought. If Rick thought it was right for Carl to work too hard in the field, well, then that is what he thought.

It was like his ex-boyfriend. Kevin always thought he was right. Wilmur always believed him to be right, too. If Kevin thought something was right, Wilmur thought it was right. He never disagreed with Kevin until the day he posted a picture of him and Kevin sleeping together.

"I know, but at least I can accept it." Wilmur replied.

Rick growled and took another step. Wilmur crossed him arms and glared. He wasn't scared of Rick. If he hurt Wilmur, Carl would be angry. Yet, if Wilmur hurt Rick, Carl would still get angry. He hated it when his loved ones fought. They both thought they were right. Even though Wilmur can admit when he was wrong, if they both thought they were right, they would argue.

"I can accept what I've done wrong." Rick argued. "I've done it with a lot of people. Some are dead."

It was true. Rick was able to admit when he was wrong sometimes. He did with Lori. He did with his speech he made after the farm tore apart. There was many things Rick regretted. Same with Wilmur. He regretted dating Kevin. He regretted turning into Justin. Both of them had their hard times before and during the apocalypse.

"Don't you have a run to do?" Rick questioned, glaring at Wilmur.

"I don't have to go." Wilmur argued.

"You have a job to do, and you have to go." Rick argued back.

Daryl never actually forced Wilmur to go on runs with him. He asked him to, but he never forced him to go. If Wilmur didn't want to go, then Daryl would be okay with it. He felt his son was safer with him no matter where they went, but Wilmur didn't have to go. Wilmur would be safe whether at the prison or with Daryl.

Wilmur crossed his arms. "I think Daryl would disagree."

Wilmur actually called Daryl 'dad.' However, he called him 'Daryl' when he was with other people so no one would get mixed up with his real father and adoptive father. When he was directly talking to Daryl, he'd call him 'dad.' Daryl never minded though. He was just happy to have a kid.

"Then I'll talk to him." Rick said, still glaring. "I've known Daryl longer than you."

"Yeah, I know." Wilmur said, glaring as well. "But Daryl and Carl known me longer than you have."

"Alright, listen! Carl's job is to work in the fields. It's his job and he's ordered to do it! There's nothing you can do about it! Okay, Wilmur?!" Rick yelled.

Wilmur just glared. Rick never understood a word he says. Rick was just too 'right.'

"You know what, you're right. Maybe there's nothing I can do about it, but you can. I can't stop Carl's exhaustion, but you can. It's up to you to give Carl some rest. If Carl overworks himself, it's your fault."

"Just stop! It isn't my fault! Carl's just a hard worker! I should be proud for it! Not sorry!"

"So you should be proud that you're exhausting, Carl? Yes, Carl's a hard worker but he's working too hard. I'm telling you, Carl's exhausted. All you need to do is take one, good easy look at him."

"He's my son! Quit telling me what to do with him!" Rick yelled.  
"I'm not! I'm doing it because I'm worried about him!" Wilmur yelled back.  
"Well, you can stop! It's my job to worry about him!"  
"I care for him, too, you know?! I have every right to worry about him!"

"You don't need to worry about him!" Rick yelled.

"Yes, I do! I told you to take a look at him! I'm not asking you to give him some rest for no reason!"

"I told you to-" Rick cut himself off when Carl walked in with fresh cloths on.

Carl stared at the two. They were both obviously arguing. They were glaring and growling at each other. But he was used to it. All Rick and Wilmur ever managed to do together was argue. They always disagreed on stuff. If Wilmur said something, Rick would say the opposite. It would take Carl to end they're argument.

Both of them glanced at Carl. Wilmur's eyes softened while Rick's didn't. Wilmur's eyes always softened at the sight of his lover. Just his presence being there is what can calm Wilmur down. However, with Rick, it took forever for him to calm down. And Carl, it would take Wilmur's arms to calm him down...just like the night terrors.

Wilmur sighed and walked to Carl, pressing his lips to his. "I'll see you later."

Carl nodded and followed after his father slowly. His legs were trembling from the lack of rest, but he forced himself to keep going. However, Wilmur noticed his trembling legs and sighed. Maybe he could help Carl with farming today.

"Hey." Wilmur said, causing Carl to turn around. "Don't work so hard today. And if Patrick comes by, walk away."

Carl nodded and continued walking while Rick squinted his eyes at Wilmur.

"What about Patrick?" Rick asked.

Wilmur glared. "Just go."

Rick growled, but listened. Carl sighed and followed after his father. If Rick was in a bad mood, it wouldn't be a good day. Arguments between Rick and Wilmur always put Rick in a bad mood.

As soon as Carl stepped a foot outside, he was already sweating. It was one of the hottest summers he's ever been through. Everyday, he had to work through terrible heat with no rest and barely any water. By the end of the day, he would be dyhrated. He can remember how dyhrated and hot he was going back in the prison one day.

Carl stared at himself in a reflection of a water puddle. His entire body was dark red. Drips of sweat were dripping down his red face like a river. Sweat was soaking all over his shirt. His skin stung as if it was a sunburn. His lips and tongue were really dry due to the lack of water. He mourned for water to be poured all over him. He wished for it to land on his red skin and dry mouth.

The young teen whined and dropped the shovel, sitting on the soil and burying his face in his knees. He was desperately trying to block the sun from greeting his red face. However, he got too hot, he had to take off his over shirt. The sun immiedently steamed his exposed skin, creating another sunburn.

He was exhausted. He was forced to do labor all day in the strong heat. If only he could sneak back inside. Maybe he could get some water and then come back out. But his father would be mad at him. His motto was to work and take care of everyone. He was taking care of everyone, but he wasn't taking care of himself.

His body could barely handle the heat. Back at Hershel's farm it was easier because there was water and he could go back inside to the air conditioning. But...it wasn't like that at the prison. At the prison, it was work or do forced work.

"Carl?" Rick said, walking up to see his son in his knees. Rick furrowed his eyebrows and put down his bucket full of vegetables and meat. He walked over to his son and bent in front of him. "Are you crying?"

The father pushed Carl's chin up to see his sweaty and red face. All of his skin was dripping sweat and turning to a darker shade of red every second. His lips were really chapped and his entire body was shaking. He was going through a heatstroke.

"Shit, Carl." Rick said, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling his son up. "We need to get you inside."

Carl whined when his father touched his sunburned skin. His legs trembled and threatened to give out. If it wasn't for his father holding him, he would've already collapsed. He was too dyhrated and too weak. If Wilmur saw him like this, he'd yell at Rick. Luckily, he was still on his run with Daryl and his run team.

The father and son walked slowly inside the prison. Carl nearly collapsed to the ground, but his father catched him before he could hit the hard floor. Rick grunted as he tried to lift his son's body. Carl got the message and wrapped his legs around Rick's waist and his arms wrapped around Rick's neck. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Rick's neck.

"Hershel?" Rick said, stepping into Hershel's cell.

The old man had been talking to his youngest daughter, Beth. She had a sleeping Judith in her lap. Judith's head was buried in Beth's chest and her eyes were closed. Her breathing was even and she was sleeping peacefully. However, she stirred awake and began crying when she noticed the condition her brother was in.

"What happened?" Hershel asked when he noticed Carl was in Rick's arms.

Beth shifted Judith in her lap before getting up and off the bunker bed so Rick could lay Carl on it. Gently, Rick laid Carl on the soft bunk. Black sags were visible under his blue eyes. He was already half asleep. It made it easier for Hershel to examine Carl.

Hershel placed his hand over Carl's red, sweaty forehead. He made his way over to a bucket with water and placed a washrag in it. He squeezed the extra water out of it before hopping back to Carl and wiping the sweat off his face. Rick handed Hershel a water bottle and he placed it in Carl's mouth.

"He needs to cool off." Hershel said, still washing the sweat of his face.

Carl winced at how harsh the wash rag was dragging against his sensitive face. However, the water helped a lot even though it wasn't ice cold. The feeling of water landing against his dry taste buds refreshed him.

Hershel wetted the washrag again before wiping it against Carl's arms. His red arms were more sensitive than his red face. Carl pulled away from Hershel's grip and hissed. It stung and burned. Couldn't they just put him in the cold showers in the prison. The showers in the prison were always cold. It would definitely help his sunburned skin.

"Can't I just get in the cold shower?" Carl whined sleepily. He was hardly awake. He felt like passing out.

"We need to get your sweating to stop first." Hershel replied.

Another water bottle is placed in his mouth. His fast beating heart slowly paced down back to a normal speed. His breathing evened better while his lungs pushed out the asthma. The red skin was unable to contain it's normal color, but his dyhration managed to calm down. His body had stopped exhaustion grew stronger, but he needed his sleep. He hardly got any sleep in the passed two weeks. His entire body was overworked.

Carl sighed and closed his eyes again, picturing Wilmur. He was thankful Wilmur hadn't seen him in this condition. An argument would rise between Rick and Wilmur. His lover had always argued with Rick when it came to stuff like this. It wasn't just so he could spend time with Carl. He cared for him and wanted him to be healthy.

Carl's almost asleep when a third water bottle is placed in his mouth. He didn't expect it, causing the water to go down the wrong hole. The young teen coughed up the water, but Hershel placed the water bottle back in his mouth to stop the choking. Some water still spilled from his mouth, but he eventually obeyed and let the water slip down his throat.

Judith's cries stopped when she noticed Carl was drinking water calmly. She was always able to sense when someone's in trouble and when someone's okay. She and Carl hardly got to see each other, but she still knew who he was.

"Beth, can you wipe the washrag against him?" Hershel asked, keeping the water bottle in place.

Beth gave a nod and handed baby Judith to Rick before taking the washrag and letting the water soak into Carl's sensitive skin. Meanwhile, Rick was standing in the cell way. Carl was perfectly okay at the beginning of the day and suddenly when he came back, Carl was badly sunburned and dyhrated.

Rick sighed and walked away from the cell and stared out the window. The sun was setting and the sky was painted different colors. However, the sun was still very bright. It was one of the hottest summers they've ever been through.

By the time the sun disappeared out of the sky and the stars were almost out, Wilmur and the run team was back. They had lots and lots of supplies. The back of their truck was filled with all kinds of things they needed.

Daryl and Wilmur stepped in the cellblock to see Rick standing back over in a cell door that lead to Hershel's cell. They made their way over to Hershel's cell to see Carl laying on the bottom bunk. His skin wasn't as red as before, but it was still really red.

"Jesus Christ, what happened?" Wilmur asked, sitting on Hershel's bunker. He could see his skin was terribly sunburned. There was no sweat, but his skin was too red and red enough.

"Carl got sunburned and dyhrated while working in the fields." Hershel responded, still wiping Carl's skin with the same wet washrag.

Wilmur turned his head and glared at Rick. He had forced his son to work too hard. Now Carl was laying in the bed badly sunburned and too dyhrated. He went through a heatstroke because of him. Rick noticed Wilmur's glare and rolled his eyes.

"What now?" Rick said with an annoyed voice.

"This is all your fault! If you didn't force Carl to work so hard, this wouldn't have happened!"

"I don't force Carl to work too hard! He decides to do it himself!"

"Oh, yeah right." Wilmur scoffed.

"Stop arguing. It's not helping." Carl said, still halfway asleep.

"He's right." Hershel responded.

Rick and Wilmur sighed and gave each other one last glare before focusing on Carl. Wilmur took off his backpack and pulled out a water bottle. It was halfway gone, but it was enough for Carl. Wilmur gently placed the bottle in Carl's mouth. Carl took little gulps until it was all gone.

Wilmur stroked Carl's damp hair and placed a kiss on his forehead, but was careful due to his sensitive skin. Daryl took a look at Carl. He could tell the boy was really hot and desperately needed to cool off.

"Um..." Daryl cleared his throat. "We got uh-we got a fan. We picked it up on the run."

Wilmur nodded. "I'll go get it."

Daryl sighed and looked at Rick's son. Carl was a hard work, but at times, he sometimes worked too hard. However, it was Rick's motto. He wanted Carl to work too many hours. It exhausted Carl. With Wilmur, it was different. A lot of times, they were inside a building and away from the heat. They also rested a lot from time to time. Carl was in the heat and couldn't get a break from it.

Wilmur came back with the big, white fan. He plugged it into the wall and placed it in front of Carl. He switched the fan to full power and let it blow in Carl's face. The fan blew Carl's damp hair away from his drooping eyes. The cool air calmed Carl.

"Better?" Wilmur asked, kissing Carl's forehead again.

Everyone looked after Carl, but left one by one as time passed. Hershel took Carl's cell for the night. Rick looked after Carl for a long time, but his exhaustion caught him and was forced to go back to his cell. Daryl and Wilmur were the only ones left in the cell.

"Alright, Wilmur. It's getting late." Daryl said.

Wilmur sighed. "Just three more minutes."

"You've been saying that for the passed hour." Daryl chuckled, but it didn't last long."I'll be upstairs."

Daryl left the cell and Carl and Wilmur were the only ones left in Hershel's cell. Wilmur stared at Carl's sleeping form. His skin was no longer red, but it was peeling.

Carl smiled at the memory. It wasn't necessarily a good memory, but Wilmur helped take care of him just like he always does. He's done it since the beginning.

Carl picked up a bucket while Rick picked up the other. The two walk down the rocky trail together. He could see some of the plants grew over night. The plants were active, but the pigs wasn't. Somehow, the pigs seemed quieter. Violet was still laying still.

"Hey, Carl?" Rick said.

The young teen looked at his father. His face was concerned and curious. "Wilmur said you work too hard and you're too exhausted by the end of the day." He said. "I don't believe him, but I'll believe it if you say it."

Carl sighed. "Well...I am exhausted at the end day."

"How much?" Rick asked before seeing the black sags under his eyes.

"Really tired." Carl replied.

Rick sighed. Wilmur had been right. Just like the time Carl got heatstroke. Maybe he could let Carl sleep in more and go back to the cellblock more early. It would probably make a huge difference.

The father looked up when he heard a horse's footsteps. Michonne had her horse and was walking it toward the fence. She was getting ready to leave, but only to find no one at the end of the day. She's been trying to find the Governor for a long time, but hasn't even found a clue of him.

"Careful out there." Rick said. The Governor might not be the only person she'll run across.

"Always am." Michonne replied. "Any requests? Books? Comics? Some stale M&M's?"

Carl smiled at the last one. Once, Michonne brought him back some. He had stuffed them all in his mouth at once. Only to end up coughing and choking on them because they were so stale.

"You're the one who likes stale M&M's." Carl said.

"Then I'll definitely be looking for some." Michonne joked and Carl giggled. "I'll look for some stuff you like, too."

Carl smirked and gave his head a shake. Michonne was always able to make him laugh. She was like his mother. She helped protect and take care of him. He wouldn't mind if Michonne got with his dad. It would officially make her his mother.

"Why don't you wear your hat anymore?" She asked.

The young teen smirked again. He hasn't wore his hat in a long time. It wasn't a farming hat. It was hat that protected him. It used to be his father's hat, but he gave it to him after he got shot to protect him. No matter where he goes, as long as the hat is with him, a little bit of his dad is with him. That hat is his father, and it protected him.

"It's not a farming hat. See you soon?"

"Pretty soon." Michonne replied.

Carl smiled and catched up to his father. He was still looking at his son with curiousness. He was worried about him. If he was really exhausting his son, then shouldn't he send him back? He wanted Carl to work, but he didn't want to exhaust him. Eventually, Carl will overwork himself too much, and he won't be able to work at all anymore.

Rick ignored the thought and walked over to the cucumber field. They were fully grown and ready to be picked just like Carl said so. The sun reflected on them and made them shine and sparkle.

"Hey, Dad?" Carl said as Rick placed down the bucket on the soil. "Why did you ask if I was exhausted at the end of the day?"

Rick stared at his son. The boy was obviously still exhausted. His fingers were shaking as he held the bucket. Black sags were growing darker under his eyes. It was nearly impossible to get him up every morning.

"Dad?"

Rick ignored his son. Instead, he handed Carl the bucket and bent down to pick up the cucumbers. The bucket was already halfway full in one minute.

Meanwhile, Carl stared at the walkers against the fences. The prison fences were getting weaker and weaker while the number of walkers kept growing and growing. Even with the people killing them everyday, it still wasn't enough. They were also growing weak on supplies. The less supplies, the more walkers. The more walkers, the more trouble. The more trouble, the more death.

There was even less people on the run today. Zach died, Wilmur's not going, Maggie's not going, Glenn's not going. Only a few people were going on the run. And a few isn't enough.

"They only took out one cluster yesterday. Probably gonna need more people today...maybe we could help."

Rick sighed. "I got other plans involving dirt and cucumbers."

Of course it does.

"Well, if you don't want to, maybe I could." Carl replied, trying to block his annoyance.

Rick ignored him again, shoving another plant in the bucket, showing his anger. Why did his son always suggest to do dangerous stuff? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is? His job was to work in the fields and to work in the fields only.

"Could I?" Carl asked nervously, afraid of his father's anger.

"We have other plans. That's what I should've said." Rick said and walked off.

The father was angry at his son again. He knows he's gonna get no as an answer so why does he bother to even ask? Rick never wanted his son to put himself in danger. If it was something Carl could die doing, then he doesn't want him to take any chances.

Carl sighed and picked up the other bucket, following after his father. He had just disappointed him again. All his father wanted was for him to be a child again. Carl was struggling with it, but now he's just made it even worse.

"Dad...I'm sorry." Carl said, and he meant it. "I've been trying."

Rick's eyes softened. He accepted the apology. He understood it was hard for Carl to be a child again. He was forced to go through the apocalypse in fear, he was forced to watch people die in front of his own eyes, he was shot, he was forced to put his mother down...it was nearly impossible to be a child.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm proud." Rick replied.

Carl bowed his head. Why would his father be proud of him after all the things he's done? It was his fault Dale died, he killed Shane, he killed his mom, he went completely cold for a while, he killed a kid in the woods. There was countless terrible things he's done.

"Dad, when can I have my gun back?"

Rick just stared at him. He knew the answer, he just asked anyway. Carl wasn't going to get his gun back until he obtains his childlike personality. It would be a while, and it already was taking a while. If Carl kept asking for it, he wouldn't get it back any time soon.

Carl sighed when Rick smiled. His father couldn't trust him with it. Ever since he killed that kid in the woods, Rick's been trying to help him be a child again. If Carl got his gun back at the second, who knows what he would be doing. He might be capable enough to act like everyone else with it. Rick couldn't have that. He wanted his son to have a childhood. He needed him to.

"Worms will give them some extra protein." Rick said, gunfire heard right afterwards.

Carl's eyes widened. Something was going on. Someone dead or alive was in the prison.

"Stay close." Rick said and Carl followed.

Gunfire grew louder and more got shot every second. Two children had already ran out of cellblock D, screaming and yelling for help. If he had his gun on him, he'd probably already be in the prison and killing whoever was attacking it.

"Cellblock?!" Maggie yelled from the guard tower.

"I don't know!" Rick yelled back before looking to his son. "Get in the tower with Maggie. Don't argue, go."

Carl obeyed, but not before locking the pig's pin up again. Up ahead, he could see Michonne running back on her horse. Carl quickly rushed to the fence to open it for Michonne, trying to ignore the gunfire. He could hear children screaming. He wanted to be in there to save them all, but his father wouldn't allow it.

The teen pulled the fence opened for Michonne, but she wasn't the only person who made it in. Walkers snuck in along with her. She jumped off the horse and tried to pull out her sword, but two walkers jump on her, knocking her down. She grunted as she desperately tried to push the walkers off her. She managed to push off one, but the other walker stayed on Michonne.

Carl made a run for the rifle against the guard tower while Maggie tried to run down to save Michonne, but she would be too late. Carl grabbed the rifle and ran back to the fence, firing toward the walker Michonne had pushed off her. He saved Michonne, but felt bad for using a gun when his father took his own away. If his father didn't want him to have a gun, then he'll obey. But he just broke his father's rule, and he felt terrible.

Maggie ran out of the guard tower and opened the second fence, running to the injured Michonne to help her. When she pushed off the second walker, she accidently stabbed herself in the side with her own sword. While Maggie got Michonne, Carl got Michonne's horse.

Outside the fence, he could see walkers sticking against their stick trap. It's when walkers walk against sticks and get stabbed and stuck. However, it wasn't stopping many of them. Walkers were outside the prison field, trying to get in the prison.

It wasn't enough walkers for it to be terrible, but it was enough walkers for them to knock down the prison fences.

"You and Rick gotta stop arguing so much. There's no point in it." Daryl said to Wilmur.

Wilmur crossed his arms. "If Rick wouldn't think he's right all the time, maybe we wouldn't argue so much."

"All y'all do is fight over the same thing. Carl. I know y'all want what's best for him, but y'all have to work together on it. And Rick is Carl's dad. He's the one who controls Carl."

"Rick can't control Carl. He only controls himself. Rick can't see that. That's the problem."

Daryl sighed and placed a hand on Wilmur's shoulder. Wilmur was right, but Rick was Carl's dad. And no one can tell Carl what to do except Rick. Wilmur just wanted Carl to be happy. He felt like what Rick was doing was making Carl unhappy, which it probably was, but there's nothing Wilmur can really do about it.

Carl was a strong boy. He's independent and can handle himself, but Rick somehow couldn't see it. He just couldn't accept his son was a man now. It got on Wilmur's nerves, but he couldn't hate Rick for it. After all, he saved Carl's life many times. Wilmur's grateful for that, but Rick thought Carl couldn't handle himself. Wilmur understood Rick wanted to protect Carl, but he was taking it too far. Rick will have to leave Carl alone sometimes.

"You're right, but there's nothing we can do 'bout it." Daryl replied.

Wilmur sighed and bowed his head. Daryl was right. Rick was his father and there was nothing Wilmur could do about it. All he could do is stand by and watch Carl torture himself more and more everyday.

"But...I can't. Carl's torturing himself and I don't want that. This isn't about wanting to spend time with him. It's about protecting himself."

"Well, maybe you could talk to Rick 'bout it. Don't argue, just say it slowly and calmly. I'm sure he'll understand. It's just better if you don't argue with him. Sometimes Rick thinks he's the leader over everything and people have to listen to him. You just have to give it time. Trust me, he'll come around."

Wilmur smiled. His father just gave him good advice. It rarely happened because Daryl was not so good at talking and usually said the wrong thing, but he was right this time. But what about Patrick? Would Daryl know how to handle Patrick?

"If-if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Rick?" Wilmur asked and Daryl nodded.

Patrick's face flooded through Wilmur's mind and boiled his blood. If only he could have a gun in his hand which is pressed against Patrick's head and his finger is on the trigger. He would pull it in a split second if Carl told him to kill Patrick.

Patrick wanted Carl. It all made sense. Why else would Patrick keep interrupting him and Carl all the time? He tried to keep Wilmur away from Carl so he could be with him. Patrick smiled, he acted like a child and was happy all the time, but behind his smile was evil lurking.

"Carl has this friend named Patrick. He always acted weird around Carl. Especially if I was with him. But yesterday evening...Patrick pushed Carl against the wall and touched him."

Daryl leaned off the wall, rage growing in his eyes. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, I know. Carl tried to fight him off but he couldn't. There's bruises on Carl because of it."

"Wilmur, that's attempted rape." Daryl said, rage still in his eyes.

Daryl cared for Carl. He was Rick's son and his son's lover. All he was is a young man doing his job in the prison, but then his own best friend tried to force Carl to do some things? It was like another Shane. He wanted Rick's wife. Patrick was the same. He wanted Wilmur's lover.

There was a rapist in the prison. They couldn't have anyone bad in the prison. They weren't going to deal with another disgusting person. If someone was caught doing something terrible, then they get killed.

"We gotta do somethin'." Daryl said.

"Yeah, but what? Carl doesn't want me to kill him. They're still friends."

"Why?" Daryl asked. He didn't understand. Why would Carl want to be friends with a person who tried to rape him?

"Because Carl thinks he still needs to be friends with him." Wilmur responded.

Daryl sighed and punched the wall. What were they going to do?! They couldn't leave Patrick alone! Patrick's not going to stop going after Carl. It's either kill him or kick him out, but kicking him out is basically like killing him. Patrick wouldn't last a day out there.

Either way, Carl will get angry. Kick him out, he'll get angry. Kill him, he'll still get angry.

"We can't leave him alive." Daryl snapped.

"There's nothing we can do. You know how Carl is. He'll get angry."

"This isn't 'bout caring for his emotions, Wilmur! It's about protecting him!" Daryl snapped again.

Wilmur sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. Wilmur wanted to protect Carl. He wanted to shield his lover from all the dangers, but would killing Patrick really help? Everyone in the prison would see him and Daryl as killers. Even Rick.

They would've killed a child. No one in the prison would believe them. Rick's group might but not everyone else. They were shookened from what Rick did to Woodbury. If they couldn't handle something like that, then how in the hell would they handle Patrick's death?

"There's nothing we can do, Dad! Killing Patrick won't solve anything. Everyone in the prison would see us as killers. Carl would! Rick would! Hershel would! There has to be another way."

Daryl scoffed and threw his crossbow on the bunker. Carl was like a son to him, too. He's one of the four members in the group he'd do anything for. The others are Wilmur, Carol, and Judith. If they couldn't kill Patrick or kick him out, then what were they suppose to do?!

"Then we have to keep them away from each other. Maybe we could lock Patrick up." Daryl suggested.

"No one would agree to it." Wilmur responded.

Daryl punched the wall again. "Son of a bitch!"

Flashes of Patrick and Carl passed through Wilmur's head. He could see Patrick as a happy, evil monster who was a rapist and was desperate to be in love. He could see Carl as an innocent, beautiful boy who was loveable and a huge part of Wilmur's life.

He could see Patrick forcing Carl to be with him and then laughing in his face. Patrick would take Carl off in the wild in the wild blue yonder and leaving Wilmur all alone.

There was no way Wilmur was going to let that happen! Carl was his and his only!

"What are we gonna do then?" Daryl asked more calmly, his hand resting against the wall.

Wilmur shrugged. "All I can do is talk to Patrick and protect Carl."

Daryl sighed and looked at his adoptive son. His blue eyes were staring at Daryl with concern. He was wondering if Daryl was okay. Not about not being able to do anything about Patrick, but about Patrick touching Carl. Daryl seemed to be angry about not being able to anything to Patrick, but not worrying about Carl being touched.

As soon as someone hurt someone Daryl loved, he immiedently wanted to kill them. He didn't worry about the other person, he just wanted to kill the other person.

Wilmur was the same sometimes. If Patrick raped Carl, he would've already killed Patrick. He wouldn't care what Carl thought. No one was allowed to force Carl to do any of that stuff.

"Where is he?" Daryl asked.

Before Wilmur could even open his mouth, a bullet was fired and was very close.

The father and son flinched, staring at each other with wide eyes. Daryl grabbed his crossbow while Wilmur yanked his gun out of his holster. Before they took off out of the cellblock, they made sure the place was secure and handed everyone in the cellblock a gun.

They ran outside to hear more gunshots that sounded like it was coming from cellblock D. Where Patrick was.

"Walkers in D!" They heard Glenn yell in panic.

"What about C?!" Rick yelled, running to Glenn. He had heard the gunshots from the fields with Carl.

"Clear!" Sasha yelled. "We locked the gates to the tombs! Hershel's on guard!"

"It ain't a breach." Daryl snapped.

"Everyone in the cellblock has a gun." Wilmur mentioned before following after Sasha.

He clicked the safety off his gun. His gun was fully loaded and four knives were in his pockets. Women and children could be heard screaming. Their husbands and fathers were protecting them, but were dying the process.

As soon as Wilmur stepped in cellblock D, a walker jumped on him followed by another. He shot the two walkers off him and stabbed the next one who came at him. Rick was helping people get out of the cellblock while everyone else was trying to defend for everyone against the walkers.

A child collapsed to the ground. Tears filled his eyes as he stared at a walker who was making his way toward the little boy. Wilmur shot the walker and grabbed the boy along with Daryl. The two rush him to Karen who was helping the children get to safety.

Wilmur quickly rushed halfway upstairs to kill three walkers who were eating a young child. Wilmur stared at the eaten child in fear and sadness. There was nothing he could do to save him. The child's screams uttered in Wilmur's ears. It reminded him of his little sister's death. Millions of children died since the apocalypse started, and his sister was one of them.

Snapping back into vision, he smashed all three of the walker's heads in before letting the crying child collapse in his arms. The child couldn't be any older than six. He was too young to die.

"No! My baby!" A women yelled.

Wilmur looked up to see a women with blonde hair and tears on her face. Her arms were opened to hold her son. Wilmur quickly handed the boy over to the mother, watching as she held and cried onto him.

"I couldn't save him." Wilmur's voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

The women stared at Wilmur with tears in her bloodshot eyes. Tears were in Wilmur's eyes, too. They were suppose to protect the prison. Protect everyone in it and they failed.

A walker snuck behind the women, but Wilmur killed it before it could bite the innocent mother. He stared as the mother collapsed to the ground with her son still in her arms. Tears were creating a river on her face. The women was screaming and crying. Wilmur was trying to get her to calm down, but it wasn't working.

All the walkers were gone, but the women didn't feel any better. The walkers ruined her and her son's life just like it ruined Wilmur's and Wilmur's sister's life. However, not all of it was ruined. If the apocalypse didn't happen, he would've never met Carl. Yeah, the apocalypse took almost everything out of everyone's life, but it gave something back. Just like Carl told him when he tried to escape the prison.

Daryl had came upstairs to see Wilmur trying to calm the mother down. However, every time he touched her, the women screamed louder. When he tried to pull the women away from her son, she smacked him off.

Daryl placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do."

Wilmur stared at the women one moment longer before slowly pushing himself off the ground. He stared at the dead child. Blood was smeared all over him and bites marked his skin.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Wilmur whispered to the women.

Daryl wrapped an arm around his son to comfort him and the two walked to the cells to check if any walkers were hiding. Every cell had a dead, eaten body in it. Most of them were women. The men had failed to protect the women.

However, one walker was hiding in a cell. It suddenly jumped out and jumped on Glenn. Wilmur flinched and aimed his gun toward the walker. It was obviously a child because it was too short and skinny to be an adult.

"Get down!" Daryl warned Glenn, aiming his crossbow at the walker and releasing the bow.

The bow was sent straight through the walker's head. It collapsed to the ground along with Glenn. Blood had splattered onto Glenn's face and stained it just like Wilmur. There was blood all over his face and hair. Daryl helped Glenn up while Rick removed the cell curtain.

There, laid a walker body everyone knew.

Patrick.

Wilmur was a bit relieved Patrick was dead. He wouldn't have to touch or force Carl to do things anymore. Carl was safe from the stupid, rapist best. However, just because he was relieved doesn't mean Carl will. Patrick was still Carl's friend, and he'll be upset. He doesn't want to see his lover crying over someone who touched and forced him.

He'll just be upset over nothing.

Rick examined Patrick. He had no bites, nor injuries. He must've just died. The only thing seen was blood dripping from Patrick's mouth, nose, and eyes. Rick sighed and walked over to the next cell, killing another walker with blood dripping from his mouth, nose, and eyes, too.

Patrick and the other man must've been sick and died.

"No bites, no wounds. I guess he just died." Rick said.

"Horribly, too." Dr. S said. "Pleurisy aspiration."

Dr. S was another doctor. Him and Hershel worked together. They both helped a lot of sick and injured people. Although, Hershel was a veterinarian, Dr. S was a real doctor. He knew more than Hershel did.

"Choked to death on his own blood." Hershel said. "Caused those trails down his face."

"Like Patrick?" Wilmur questioned and Hershel nodded.

"I've seen them before on a walker outside the fences." Rick said.

"They're from the internal lung pressure building up-like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top."

Wilmur winced at the thought. Patrick died horribly, but if he had it when he was near Carl then...what if his lover catches it? Blood would be everywhere. Wilmur couldn't have his lover get sick. If it killed two people, then it may very well kill Carl. If his lover dies...he's not sure if he'll be able to go on or not.

"It's a sickness from the walkers?" Bob asked.

Wilmur prayed to God it wasn't. Things in the world were already bad enough. If the walker disease grew stronger, then it would wipe out all of humanity. Everyone and everything would be dead. Including animals and plants.

"No, these things happened before they were around." Dr. S replied.

Thank God.

"Could be pneumococcal." Dr. S continued. "Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

Wilmur's heard of pneumococcal before. Penny had it once and it was terrible. She wouldn't stop throwing up blood and gaining so many terrible head and belly aches. His mother fed Penny soup, but it didn't help at all. Everyday, she would lay in bed with a bucket in her little hands that would be filled with blood in two minutes.

She would never stop sweating and flushing. Her temperature would be above 100 degrees. A fan had to be blown in her face to cool her off, but if she puked out blood, it would fly all over her face. It was nearly impossible to use the fan because of all the blood.

Penny ended up staying out of school for two months. Her teacher would end up sending her the work everyone did in class, but she could hardly do it because she was too sick. She couldn't even hold a pencil because she was so weak. Wilmur ended up doing the homework for it, but he didn't mind. He wanted his sister to rest and get better.

Eventually, she had to be hospitalized. The doctors connected her to all kinds of wires. She couldn't even breathe on her own. She had to be connected to a machine to help her breathe. The doctors gave her all kinds of fluids until she was better. She wasn't allowed to be allowed out of the hospital until she was completely recovered.

"Someone locked him in just in time." Hershel said.

"No, man." Daryl corrected. "Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday. How could somebody die in the day just from a cold?"

"I've seen it before. My sister had it, and it was horrible. She was perfectly fine the day before. She was playing with her barbies." Wilmur chuckled, remembering how happy his sister was. "But the next day, she had it. She ended up getting hospitalized for awhile."

"How did you not get it?" Hershel asked.

"My mom gave me vitamins to keep me from getting sick."

Silence grew in the room. Everyone was focusing on the dead Charlie who was sick, but died from it. The sickness was terrifying. It killed two people and his sister had to be hospitalized because of it. He doesn't want his lover to catch it just like Penny did. It killed him to see Penny so sick and there was hardly anything they could do about it.

"All of us in here," Hershel broke the silence. "We've all been exposed."

Wilmur sighed sadly as Rick dragged Charlie out of the cell. Wilmur stood next to Daryl.

"How did your sister heal?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur flinched at the mention of his sister. He never really talked about her. It felt different talking about her. With her gone, his life was just different. It always will be different without her in the world. If only he could introduce Carl to her. They would've liked each other a lot. He knew she would like Carl a lot better than she liked Kevin.

"The doctors in the hospital gave her medicine and fluids." Wilmur replied.

Silence grew between Daryl and Wilmur before two minutes passed.

"Are you glad Patrick's dead?" Daryl asked.

"Well...I'm not really glad I'm just relieved he's gone, you know? So he can't touch Carl anymore."

Daryl barely sighed and looked away. "Well, I'm glad he's dead."

Wilmur stared at his adoptive father. Daryl was violent since he met him. He was very protective over his friends and if anyone hurt him, he'd curse them upon every breath they breathed and be thankful that they're dead.

Carl helped Michonne walk along with Maggie. The gunshots were no longer heard and the screams were all gone. The only thing remained left was cries.

As soon as Carl saw his father, he took of running toward him. He felt so terrible for using a gun. He felt like his father needed to know what he's done.

"You might wanna stay back." Rick warned, but Carl didn't listen. "Carl-"

The father is cut off when Carl is smashed in his arms. Carl whimpered into his father's shoulder. He felt so terrible for breaking his father's rule. Other children might find it weird he's upset over breaking his father's rule, but Carl loved his dad. His dad was the only parent he had left. He broke so many of his mother's rules and she died. He felt terrible for breaking them. He's not going to do the same with his father. Not now. Not ever.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't see you come out."

Carl was so scared he lost him. If he lost his dad, he don't know what he would've done. Sure, he had Wilmur but he would be so upset over his father's death. It didn't matter that his dad was strict on him. He still loved his father, and he will no matter what.

"It's okay." Rick comforted his son. "I'm here. I'm fine. But back away."

Carl obeyed. He thought he lost his father. He'd do anything to obey him at the moment.

"I had to use one of the guns by the gate. I swear I didn't want to."

Rick didn't care his son used a gun. He had to, and his son was upset for using one. Carl was upset right now. He didn't want to get him trouble over nothing. It'd just upset him more.

"I was coming back." Michonne defended for Carl. "They came out and helped me."

"Are you all right?" Rick asked and Michonne nodded.

Carl had saved Michonne. Maggie would be too late. If it wasn't for Carl, Michonne would be bitten and possibly already dead. If Carl had to use a gun to defend for himself or for someone else, he didn't care.

"What happened in there?" Maggie asked, afraid to hear the answer.

The blonde women carrying her young, dead son was enough to answer the question. It was the same mother and son Wilmur had tried to help, but failed. Everyone failed. They failed to protect everyone. Everyone had a job, but everyone's real job was to protect each other, but they failed at it.

If only they knew about the flu sooner. If only they knew about the sick pig, Violet, who died from the sickness.

"Patrick got sick last night." Rick finally managed to say.

Carl flinched under Patrick's name. The boy who touched and forced him to do things. It was the only thing Carl thought of when he heard Patrick's name. He wondered if Wilmur talked to him yet.

Wilmur.

If he was in cellblock D...what if...

"It's some kind of flu. It moves fast." Rick continued. "We think he died and attacked the cellblock."

Carl sighed. Patrick was his friend even though he touched him. If he's honest with himself, he's relieved Patrick died. It meant no one could interrupt him and Wilmur's special moments together. It also meant Patrick couldn't touch him anymore. But...despite the cons of Patrick, he was still his friend.

"Look, I know he was your friend and I'm-" Rick's interrupted.

"Is Wilmur all right?" Carl interrupted Rick. He didn't care about Patrick. He touched and forced him to do tings. He cared about Wilmur. The boy who loved him.

Rick looked at his son weird for a second, but eventually nodded. He understood his concern for Wilmur. He was more important than Patrick. After all, Patrick and Carl weren't exactly friends. They were more like aquittances.

Rick looked at Maggie, taking his attention away from Carl. "Glenn and your dad are okay, but they were in there. You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might've been exposed."

If Wilmur was in the cellblock, he was exposed. If the flu killed Patrick, it's strong enough to kill Wilmur, and everyone in the prison. Everyone else out of the cellblock would be quarantined.

Carl sighed and ran back to Michonne, wrapping his arm around her to help her walk.

If the sickness spreads, everyone in the prison could end up getting it. Everyone would eventually die if they didn't get it under control. They had Hershel and Dr. S, but they didn't have the medicine. Without the medicine, there's really nothing they can do.

"Patrick was fine yesterday, and he died overnight." Carol said. "Two people died that quick?"

The council was having a meeting. They were deciding how to contain the horrible flu. If it killed two people already, imagine how many people it will kill if it spreaded. Everyone exposed was bound to obtain the sickness sooner or later. They had to be contained somewhere, and fast.

"We have to separate everyone. When my sister was hospitalized, they wouldn't let us see my sister at all. Mom and I even had to be contained for awhile because we were near her. If it's that contagious, everyone needs to be separated."

"That's everyone in the cellblock." Daryl replied. "That's all of us. Maybe more."

It could even be Carl that could be contained. He was near Patrick the day before he died. He was near the people who sleep in cellblock D. If Wilmur was exposed to it before today, then he could've already given it to Carl. He could've already given it to a lot of people.

"We know that this sickness can be lethal." Hershel said. "We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?"

Wilmur looked down at himself. He hadn't been showing any symptoms. No one really has...yet. The children in cellblock D could very easily get it. Younger children have a weaker immune system than the older. The kids were at a higher risk. They needed to worry about them the most.

"We just can't wait and see. There's children." Carol said.

"Children have weaker immune systems than all of us. If anyone gets it, it's gonna be them." Wilmur said.

"He's right. When they die, they become a threat." Carol replied.

Hershel nodded. "We need a place for them to go. Not just the children. They may be the ones to get it first, but then they can pass it on to any adult any time. It's too dangerous to leave them wandering around. We can't use cellblock D. We can't risk going in there to clean it up."

"What about the people who aren't exposed? They can't stay here. They have to go somewhere else." Wilmur said.

"The ones who aren't exposed get quarantined. The ones who are exposed stay here. And the ones who have the sickness can use cellblock A." Carol said.

"Death row?" Glenn questioned. "I'm not sure if that's much of an upgrade."

"It's clean. That's an upgrade." Daryl said. "Think that'll work with Dr. S?"

"I'll help Caleb get it set up." Hershel replied.

Suddenly, a women can be heard coughing. The sickness has already spreaded if another person has catched it. They couldn't let the sickness spread anymore. Having two people sick from it was enough. If a third was sick, it'll spread more and more and eventually, everyone in the prison will be sick. Even the ones quarantined.

Everyone quickly jumped out of there chairs and walked out of the cell library too see Tyreese in the hallway with his arm wrapped around the coughing Karen.

"You don't sound so good." Carol said, stepping out of the library.

"We're just taking her back to my cell so she can rest." Tyreese replied.

Wilmur sighed. There was nothing Tyreese could do for his girlfriend. If it was Carl who was sick, Wilmur would go in cellblock A with him. He doesn't give a damn what anyone else said. He wasn't going to let Carl go in alone. Penny had it before and he took care of her. He would do the same exact thing to Carl.

"Tyreese, I don't think that's a good idea." Hershel said.

"Why? What's going on?" Karen asked.

"There's a horrible sickness going around. It's already killed two people. We can't have it spreading. She'll have to go somewhere else." Wilmur responded.

"She's gonna be okay." Tyreese said, refusing to believe what might happen to his girlfriend. "Now that we know what they died from we can treat it, right?"

"Don't panic. We're going to figure this out." Hershel said. "But we should keep you separated in the meantime."

Karen sighed worriedly. How could a sickness pass through the prison and kill two people? Was the sickness really so bad, that you had it contain it? If two people died from it then...

"We'll have Caleb take a look at you." Hershel said. "I'll see what we have in the way of medications."

There was barely any medications. They haven't found any medicine for almost two months. Yeah, they have Hershel's tea, but could that really help? They needed something that would completely get rid of the flu. They needed vitamins, too. The vitamins should help the people who aren't sick. It would build up their immune system.

Carl, however, was in a weak state at the moment. With him working too hard, it could've reduced his immune system's strength. He could easily catch it. Especially if he was around Patrick. If he could talk to Rick and tell him Carl needed to rest, then maybe his immune system would grow strong again.

"David from the Decatur group," Karen said. "He's been coughing, too."

Now four people had it. Two were already dead, but Karen and David were bounded to die soon if they don't find the right fluids and medicine to treat it. They desperately needed to find vitamins the most to stop the flu from spreading. If they could get it to stop, the sickness in the prison would soon disappear.

"I'll-I'll get him." Glenn said. Before walking off, he turned to Sasha. "There's some clean empty cells in the tombs, right?"

"Yeah, we'll meet you there." Sasha responded.

Glenn nodded and walked off to get David. He had to get him, and quickly before David spreads it to anyone else. If he does, then the next person will give it to the next. It will continue as a pattern until they can manage to stop it.

Sasha and Wilmur sighed, walking over to Tyreese and Karen, wrapping there arms around them. Karen didn't need to walk on her own. Every time Penny tried when she had it, the sickness ended up worsening. She eventually couldn't walk on her own. Wilmur, his mother, or his father would have to end up carrying her.

"Come on." Wilmur said as his arms wrapped around Karen.

"Let's get you settled." Sasha said, helping Karen along with Wilmur.

Wilmur and everyone else besides Daryl, Hershel, and Carol put Karen in cellblock A. Karen had a strong look on her face. She had to be strong, or else she could die. She couldn't be afraid of death. It was a normal thing.

"Don't worry." Wilmur reassured. "Everything will be all right."

He gave Karen one last look before walking off with everyone besides Tyreese who stayed behind for a little while. They walked outside the prison to check and make sure everyone was all right. If anyone was coughing or showing any kind of symptom, they have to lock them away. They can't have it spreading. Especially outside the prison.

They don't run across anyone showing symptoms, but they do run across a fence threatening to give out because of too many walkers pushing against it. The gunfire had drawn all the walkers to the prison.

"Rick! Daryl!" Maggie yelled, motioning for them to come help.

Wilmur looked up ahead to see the nearly falling fence with thousands of walkers pressed against it.

"Oh no." Wilmur whispered before taking off running with Daryl, Sasha, Maggie, Rick, Tyreese, and Glenn.

Each of them grab a weapon from the fence. No one had been outside today to kill the walkers pressed against the fences. The gunfire had only made it worse. Thousands of walkers were surrounding them and all heading for the same fence.

"The noise drew 'em out and now this part's starting to give!" Maggie yelled, killing walkers against the fences.

Wilmur killed every walker crowding in his area. They're snarling attracted more and more walkers to come. Not just the ones near them, but the ones somewhere else in the field. The crowded area was attracting all of them.

One of the walkers smashed of against the gates too hard, that it's eyeballs fell out. Blood splattered onto the gravel with each stab into the walker's heads. Blood splattered onto Wilmur's cloths, too. Blood was splattering on everyone. Snarling could be the only thing heard. You could barely hear each other. You had to yell to get everyone to hear you.

More and more walkers pressed up against the fence. They're fingers sink through the fence and grip onto the weapons, but they lose their grip as soon as the weapon splitted there head.

One walker gripped onto Wilmur's weapon and knocked him to the gravel. A rock jammed into his hand, leaving a bloody injury. Wilmur grunted as he tried to push himself up, but winced at the pain in his palm. The rock had sunken into his palm. Daryl grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"You okay?" He asked.

Wilmur yanked the rock of his palm and dropped it to the ground. "I'm fine."

A walker grabbed Daryl's wrist and yanked him forehead, but before he could bite Daryl, Wilmur smashed the knife right through the walker's hard skull. Usually, the walker's skulls were soft, but if it was a brand new walker, the skull would be hard. Most of the walkers they were killing had hard skulls.

"Someone's nearby." Wilmur said.

"Huh?" Daryl said, confused.

"The walkers are new. Someone must've killed the actual person."

Daryl stabbed another walker and then another after that, realizing their skulls were too hard. Most of them had already turned. A lot of them weren't even bitten. They just had wounds.

"Are you seeing this?!" Sasha yelled.

Wilmur looked down beside him to see dead, eaten rats. Someone must've been feeding them. If the rats were all in one place, someone had been feeding them. The rats couldn't have rushed in all at once.

"Is someone feeding these things?" Sasha questioned.

Suddenly, part of the fence greeted Wilmur's face. The fence was slowly falling, and the walkers were falling with it. Wilmur dropped his weapon and smashed his arms and hands against the fence to keep it from falling.

"Oh, shit!" Wilmur yelled.

"Heads up!" Daryl warned.

With all his strength, Wilmur pushed against the fence hard. He couldn't let the walkers break in the prison. They would kill many people inside. Most of the people in the prison didn't know how to fight. A lot of them were probably already sick.

The walker snarling grew louder, attracting every single walker nearby. Each walker was pushing up against the fence. They're fingers were gripping it and pushing it forward while Wilmur and everyone else was pushing it back with all their strength. It was nearly impossible due to the amount of walkers and lack of people. But they were stronger than the walkers. If they kept pushing as hard as they can, then they can push the fence back.

Wilmur grunted as he pushed against the fence as hard as he could. His arms were losing power due to how hard he was pushing. If they had more people, it would be easier. But they didn't have more people. All they could do was push against the fence as hard as they could.

Fingers gripped onto Wilmur's fingers, but he ignored them. He grunted and pushed harder, roaring as he pushed against the fence. It was unknown who was winning. Wilmur was closing his eyes as he pushed against the fence. He couldn't open his eyes and hope for the best. He had to close them and just push.

"Everybody back!" Daryl yelled. "Come on, back, now!"

Everyone obeyed and took a step back. They didn't push against it long enough to push it all the way back, but they did push against it long enough to keep it the way it is a little longer.

"Fence keeps bending in like that, those walkers will come over it!" Sasha yelled.

Wilmur sighed and looked at Rick. He was visibly exhausted. They were all sweating and their arms were trembling. They couldn't push against the fence forever. Whether they push against the fence or not, the walkers will break through.

"Daryl, get the truck.' Rick said. "I know what to do.

Wilmur knew Rick knew exactly what to do. Even though a lot of times Rick was wrong, he knew the greatest survival skills. And he can lead the walkers away from the fences.

Carl hammered the cross he was making for Patrick. He was his friend even though he touched him, and he wasn't evil. He deserved to be rested in peace.

Footsteps walked down the steps, interrupting the peace.

The young teen looked up to see Carol. She wasn't actually checking on him. She was making sure he didn't tell his dad about what she's been teaching the children. Honestly, he didn't care, but he knew his dad wanted to know. He wasn't going to lie to his dad. He almost lost him today.

"Do you know if Patrick was Catholic?" Carl asked, ignoring his thoughts.

"He said he was a practicing atheist." Carol replied.

Carl sighed and took the cross apart. Maybe he was an atheist so he could have the ability to touch Carl. Maybe he thought if he was Catholic, it would be breaking the bible law if he touched Carl and pushed him against the wall. However, if he was an atheist, there was no rule.

"Did you tell your dad what you saw in the library yesterday?" She asked.

Thought you would ask that.

"Nope." Carl responded, putting away the hammer.

The young teen picked up a box and placed the wood and hammers and nails back in it. He wasted his time making a cross for Patrick when he touched him and was also an atheist. He was Catholic when he came, but tried to be an atheist when he met Carl just so he could try and be with him. What really bothered him was Patrick felt like being a Catholic and liking Carl was a bad thing. But then he thought touching him was a good thing, even as an atheist.

"Are you going to tell him?" She asked.

Carl paused and sighed. He wasn't going to lie to his dad. Rick never lied to him. Why should he lie to Rick?

"What about Wilmur?" She asked.

Carl stayed paused. He told Wilmur everything. He knew what the right thing to do was. He always told Carl the right thing and fixed his mistakes. If he didn't tell his dad, then he was definitely going to tell Wilmur.

Carol sighed. "I have to keep teaching those kids to survive. You know that."

She was right. The children have to know how to fight or they'll end up dying. They can't always look up to a parent or an adult. If you end up alone, you have no one left but yourself. And you have to know how to fight.

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she was sneaking behind everyone's back and now Carl knew.

"Did you tell their parents?" Carl asked.

Carol shook her head. "No."

"Are you gonna tell them?"

If she doesn't tell their parents, it would be just like Carl not telling his dad. He didn't want to lie and he didn't want Carol to lie either. She'd just get herself in trouble. She may not care but Carl does.

"If I do, maybe after this they'll understand. But maybe they won't. I don't wanna take that risk."

"That's between you and them." Carl said, placing one last object back in the box.

Carol sighed and took a seat on the bench. She had to get Carl to keep the secret somehow. She couldn't force him to keep it a secret. It was up to him. She wasn't his mom and he certainly wasn't a kid.

"No." She said. "It's between you and me. If you tell your dad, he'll tell them."

You don't know that, Carol.

"And like I said, maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't."

"I don't wanna lie to my dad." Carl said.

Rick didn't deserve to be lied to.

"I'm not asking you to lie." She replied. "I'm asking you not to say anything."

Carl sighed. Rick would want to know. And if Rick wanted to know, then Rick has every to know.

Wilmur and Maggie open the gate for Rick and Daryl. They're plan was to use pigs as bait to attract the walkers away from the fences of the prison. Daryl would be driving the truck while Rick is throwing out pigs for the walkers to eat.

Maggie and Wilmur ran back to Sasha and Glenn and Tyreese to kill walkers that will be left against the fence. Almost every walker left the fence, leaving everyone else to kill the walkers left against the fences.

Glenn closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't feel very well. He felt a little warm, and it wasn't from the heat. Wilmur looked over and noticed Glenn's closed eyes.

"Glenn?" Wilmur said and Glenn flinched, flashing his eyes open. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm f-fine." He responded, still feeling uneven.

Wilmur slightly nodded and watched as Rick's truck drove back in the gates. Every pig was gone and left against the trails for the walkers to follow. They had no more meat to strengthen people. They had even less food now. The sick people would need something healthy. It couldn't just be vegetables. They needed something that would help give them strength.

The food was suppose to help them stay stronger for a little longer until they find medicine, but it was even harder now without the food. They needed to give the sick people something to hold them over.

"How'd it go?" Wilmur asked Rick and he gave him a thumbs up.

Wilmur sighed and looked at everyone else before walking back inside with them to check on everyone. While walking back inside, he ran across Carl, but stayed clear of him. He didn't want to expose him to the sickness.

"Wilmur." He said, taking too many steps toward him.

"Stop." Wilmur warned. "Stay back."

Carl hesitated, but obeyed and took a few steps back. Wilmur was exposed, and he didn't want him being exposed alone. If he got sick, Carl would want to take care of him. He doesn't want Wilmur handling himself.

"Do you know if the run with Daryl went okay?" He asked.

"No one went." Wilmur corrected.

The two boys stare into each other's blue eyes. They wished to take off to their secret spot in the prison, but they couldn't. Not with Wilmur exposed. Yet, Carl didn't care if Wilmur was exposed he just wanted to be with him. No matter what happens, even if Wilmur got terribly sick, he still wanted to be with him.

It felt different just staring at each other instead of holding each other. If Carl could somehow expose himself, then he can be with Wilmur. But he knew it was childish and his father and lover wouldn't appreciate it.

"Is my dad down there?" He asked and Wilmur nodded.

"Yeah, he's down there. Don't get too close to him though." Wilmur warned.

Wilmur walked passed Carl, but he stopped him. "When will we be allowed to be near each other again?"

The older lover smiled. "As soon as we get the medicine. Don't worry. We'll be together again before you know it."

Carl smiled weakly as Wilmur walked off. Who knows how long it'll take to get the medicine. It could be a few days or a few weeks. A lot of people would already be dead by a few weeks. Even by a few days if enough people get sick. He didn't want Wilmur to get sick. If it killed Patrick, then it can kill Wilmur.

The young teen sighed and walked in the field to his father. He was taking apart the pig pin. The pigs were all gone. Including Violet. If Rick knew how close Carl was to the pigs, he probably would've kept one of them.

"Not this time." Rick said and Carl sighed. The sickness just had to ruin everything.

Rick threw the wooden plank on the pile of wooden plants before taking apart another one. They lost their meat and about twenty percent of their food. At least they still had the other eighty percent.

"Think the pigs made them sick?" Carl asked.

"Or we made the pig sick." Rick corrected, throwing down another wooden plank.

Carl nodded slightly and looked down. He hoped to find medicine soon. He hated being separated from everyone. From his father, from his lover, from his sister. He had no one to talk to.

"I think we should stay away from Judy awhile." Rick suggested and Carl nodded. They had to keep her safe. If she got sick, she wouldn't last a few hours. "I don't like it but-"

"We have to protect her." Carl interrupted.

"Yes, we do." Rick replied, throwing down another wooden plank.

Carl sighed nervously. He felt weird being around Rick when he was keeping something from him. It didn't feel very good, and his father needed to know Carol really wasn't reading to children during story time.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Carol's been..." Carl paused, making sure he's actually wanting to do this. "Teaching the kids...how to use weapons...how to kill. Their parents don't know and she doesn't want you to know. I think you should let her. I know you're gonna say it's not up to you. But it can be."

Carl immiedently regretted telling him the moment Rick threw gasoline out of the gasoline bottle in rage. Carl took a step back. His father seemed to always get mad at him, but it wasn't his fault.

"Dad?"

"Thank you for telling me." Rick said.

Carl looked at the ground. "Yeah."

"I won't stop her. I won't say anything." Rick said before setting the pig pin on a gentle fire.

Rick walked over to the blue bucket where he had his and Carl's gun planted. He had buried it to hide it from him and Carl. He took it away so Carl could obtain his childlike personality again, but nothing was going to change. Carl was a fighter, not a kid. He needed his gun more than ever. Walkers can break in the cellblock again any time, and it'd be Rick's fault if Carl didn't have a gun to defend himself.

"Carl." Rick said, opening the bucket.

The young teen walked over to his dad while he pulled the gun Carl hasn't seen in a long time out. He cleaned it with a washrag and handed it over to his son. Carl looked at his father for a second to make sure his father really wanted him to take it. If Rick didn't actually want him to take it, then he's fine with leaving it, but Rick was serious.

Carl took the gun while Rick pulled his weapons back out.

"And Carl, when it's over, you don't have to work so much anymore. I'll let you sleep in and go back in the prison earlier than usual, okay? Wilmur was right. I was exhausting you too much and I'm sorry."

Carl smiled. "It's okay. You don't have to do that though."

"Yeah, I know." Rick replied. "I don't want you to overwork yourself too much. Not like that time you got sunburned really bad."

Carl's smile drove down. He wanted to make sure his father actually wanted this. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And besides, you need to spend more time with Wilmur. He makes you more happier than I do."

Carl smiled again, looking down at the ground.

"Me and Wilmur both have one thing in common." Rick joked.

Carl scoffed. "And what's that?"

"We both love you." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Bloody Rocks

The illness was spreading quickly. Clusters of people had already started to show symptoms. Dr. S was desperately trying to help them, but it was nearly impossible. Too many people were getting sick too fast. The only thing they could do was to try and contain the illness from spreading.

Wilmur remained free of symptoms so far. He hadn't coughed any or felt any dizziness unlike most people but that doesn't mean he won't get sick. Lot's of people had gotten sick ever since Karen and David walked into cellblock A. He had to remain extra careful around everyone. Especially since he was younger and had a weaker immune system than everyone.

However, he wasn't too worried about himself. He was worried about Carl. The younger lover was around Patrick when everything happened. Patrick could've easily given it to him. Carl could already be exposed, but there was nothing Wilmur could do about it. All he could do was hope for the best. You either live or you die.

The teen sighed and leaned his back against the hard wall. He hoped nothing too serious would happen today. They've already lost too many people. Everyone already felt bad about failing to protect everyone. They hoped to protect people from the illness, but it was nearly impossible due to it spreading so fast.

No one was upset because they lost more people. They were upset because the people they've grown too close to, the people who they promised and tried so hard to keep them safe, died. Wilmur had broken another one of his many promises. All he wanted to do was keep his loved ones alive and safe, but he just couldn't. He's failed too many people.

It was one of he reasons why Wilmur hesitated to fall in love with Carl. All he managed to do was break his promises and cause his loved ones to die. Wilmur thought if he fell in love with Carl, he would break his promise to protect him. It's all Wilmur ever managed to do.

But he fell in love with Carl and he couldn't help it. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it. The second he let Carl in, he immiedently developed feelings for him, and he couldn't push them away. Love was one of the normal things left in the world, and they had to cherish it.

Wilmur looked up with his arms crossed upon hearing stomping footsteps. The hard stomping belonged to Tyreese. The dark skinned man who was one of the good people. But he wasn't acting like himself this time. Rage was visible in his two brown eyes. Growls were rippling from his chest. He was clenching his fists to keep the rage from lashing out.

"Get out here." Tyreese hissed.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his adoptive father and then to Rick and then Carol. The four of them were just cleaning up after the pass the walkers left in the prison yesterday. They had to clean it as fast as they can so they could stop the illness from spreading.

"We'll be out there in five minutes." Rick replied, stacking another dead body on another.

"Now." Tyreese demanded.

Wilmur gave Tyreese a weird look. He's never seen him seen so angry and demandful. Hell, he's never seen him like angry! Tyreese was always such a good and sweet man. He never forced anyone to do anything but instead, let them do their own thing. Tyreese was never angry. Nor demandful.

Rick looked at Tyreese weird as well before looking at the three of them and shrugging. The four dropped the walker bodies they were carrying and followed Tyreese outside. They walked into a dark hallway near where cellblock A was. Blood could be seen smeared on the floor, creating a trail that led outside.

The five of them followed the bloody trail and stepped outside into the hot air with two people who were burnt to death laying on the ground with smoke arising from them. The two were a women and a man. The women had a bracelet and the man had a necklace.

Karen and David...

The two adults had been sick with the flu. They were the only ones in the prison who were sick. And that was just the problem. The two weren't burnt on an accident. Someone purposely done it because they thought it would keep the illness from spreading. But it didn't. Too many people had already gotten sick. The person who killed Karen and David done it out of murder even though they didn't mean it that way.

Wilmur stared at David. He didn't know David much, but him and Carl encountered him when he was drunk once. Him and Carl were hanging out together when suddenly the drunk David came to them and said some things. He called them faggots and said their relationship was disgusting.

Although Wilmur was used to getting all the comments from everyone in the prison, he felt uncomfortable with David saying it. He never bothered them about it before. The next day, Rick had figured out what happened and kept David away from Wilmur and Carl. Ever since then, they haven't talked to David again.

Karen, however, he knew her. Everyone in the prison knew her.

A tear trailed down Wilmur's cheek as he thought of Andrea. The women whom became a mother to him. She had passed away because of his selfish father, the Governor.

And now his lover was laying on the bunker with a strangled throat and eyes redder than ever. If Wilmur had killed Philip, none of this happened. Rick would've never gotten in a tensed war with him, Wilmur's heart wouldn't be broken, Merle would be alive, Andrea would be alive...everyone would be alive!

But...Wilmur wasn't the one who let Philip go. Justin did. If he wasn't Justin, if he was Wilmur instead, he could've saved everyone from their dangerous fates. If they couldn't survive, they'd die. If they didn't die, they'd suffer.

"It's not your fault." Karen said, rubbing Wilmur's shoulder.

But it was Wilmur's fault. If he'd just killed his father then...everything would be different.

"It is." Wilmur argued. "If I just killed my father, everything would be different. Carl wouldn't be like this."

Carl, who was laying on his bunker, shook his head and grasped onto Wilmur's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. He couldn't have his lover blame himself. Nothing was Wilmur's fault.

"It isn't your fault." Karen said strongly. "Carl even agrees."

"Well, he's wrong." Wilmur said.

"Don't you believe what Carl tells you?" Karen questioned, testing Wilmur.

"Of course I do."

"Then it's not your fault."

Wilmur sighed and looked at his younger lover. Of course he believed what Carl says to him. He believed every word that slipped passed down his tongue. If Carl said he loved, then he believed him. If he didn't believe anything he said, they wouldn't have fallen in love.

The older lover grabbed a washrag and dipped it in cold water before dabbing it gently on Carl's throat.

Karen sat down beside Wilmur, still rubbing his shoulder as she watched Wilmur wipe Carl's swollen throat. Even though it wasn't his fault, Karen understood why Wilmur blamed himself. He just hated having the Governor as his father. The evil man who caused Penny's death, tried to kill everyone in Rick's group several times, attempted to rape Maggie, hurt Carl, hurt Wilmur, killed Milton, killed Merle, killed Andrea!

"I know." Karen whispered.

Wilmur scoffed."You know nothing." Wilmur argued.

Karen couldn't understand. She had no idea of the things his father had done. Everything he's said and done was unbelievable. Philip has done nothing but cause Wilmur pain.

"I don't understand but I know." Karen corrected. "I know why you're blaming yourself. You regret having the Governor as your father."

"I wish he didn't exist!" Wilmur snapped. "He's ruined everyone! It's his fault Penny died, he hurt Carl, he killed Milton, he killed Andrea, he even abused me! If he was never here, none of this would've happened!"

Tears land on his lover's face. He didn't want to think of his father. He just wanted to focus on Carl. The who Philip nearly killed. He would never forgive his father for what he's done to his lover. Nor what he did to everyone.

Carl opened his mouth to speak, but Wilmur quickly placed a finger over Carl's soft lips. "Shh. Shh. Shh. Don't talk."

The younger lover whined. He hated not being able to talk to Wilmur. He hated being treated like a weakling, but he knew what Wilmur was doing this because he wanted Carl to get better.

Karen gave Carl a warm smile, hoping to give him some strength. She knew the boy felt hurt and weak, but that wasn't true. He needed to heal in order to survive. Karen grabbed a water bottle and placed it in Carl's mouth.

"You think you can handle the bottle?" Karen asked and Wilmur nodded.

Wilmur fed Carl the water while Karen gently massaged Carl's throat, careful not to choke him. The massage relaxed Carl along with the cold water. His throat was relaxed by the massage while the cold water soaked into Carl's swollen throat.

The younger teen looked at the older. Love filled Wilmur's blue eyes as he placed a gentle kiss on Carl's forehead before placing another on his lips after pulling the water bottle away. He was running a slight fever, but it wasn't too bad. After all, he's had the same fever for a long time and it hasn't gotten any worse.

The older teen gently stroked Carl's palm, placing another kiss on his lips before laying his head on his chest. Fatigue slowly took over Carl's droopy eyes until he soundly fell asleep with Wilmur's head on his chest. Careful not to wake him up, Wilmur placed one last kiss on Carl's lips. He gently stroked Carl's palm, placing a kiss to his forehead before laying his head back on his chest.

"Why don't you go to bed? I can tell you've been losing sleep." Karen said, noticing the black sags under Wilmur's eyes.

It wasn't a fact Wilmur could decline. He was exhausted. But he needed to be with Carl at the moment. Right now, his lover needed him more than ever. He was frightened by what's happened and Wilmur needed to reassure him it's all over.

"I-I think I'll stay here." Wilmur said.

Karen furrowed her eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Uh-huh." Wilmur replied in a hoarse voice, yawning and immediately fell asleep with his head against Carl's chest. He was still sitting in his chair, his head was just in a different position.

Karen sighed and rubbed Wilmur's shoulder one last time before walking out of the cell and to Tyreese who was sitting right outside the cell.

"I'm really worried about him." Karen whispered to Tyreese, her head pointed toward Wilmur. "He hasn't slept in forever. Daryl has tried everything, but he sneaks out every night."

Tyreese sighed. "He's just worried about Carl. When he heals, it'll be over."

Karen sighed. "I hope so."

The disgusting, burning smell of Karen and David's burnt bodies filled his nostrils. Karen used to have a sweet scent, but now it's replaced with the same rotting smell. The same scent Wilmur smelled every time he set foot out of the prison. The only smell left in the world was rotting flesh. It was very rare to find a good fragrance.

"You found them like this?" Rick asked Tyreese.

Tyreese looked at Wilmur and then Rick. No tears were seen in his eyes. Only rage and anger was expressed. "I came to see Karen...and I saw the blood on the floor. Then I smelled them...somebody dragged them out and set them on fire! They killed them and set them on fire!"

Wilmur sighed and took a step closer. The only thing left of Karen was her bracelet. The only thing left of David was his cross necklace. And now they lay as victims of a horrible death.

Tyreese now had to live and survive without Karen. Everyday, he'd have to face waking up and knowing she's not there anymore. She'd no longer be there for him. They'd no longer see each other or talk or laugh.

She was just...gone.

With rage, Tyreese stepped in Rick's face, glaring with one of the deadliest glares he's ever had in his entire life. He hardly ever glared, but this time...it was something serious.

Wilmur placed a hand on his holster, preparing to pull a gun out just in case Tyreese tried anything. He knew what happened after you lose a loved one. Wilmur felt nothing but rage after his mother and sister died.

"You're a cop." Tyreese growled. "You find out who did this and you bring 'em to me! You understand?! You bring 'em to me!"

Daryl took a step forward and placed a comforting hand on Tyreese's shoulder. "We'll find out who-"

But Daryl couldn't finish his sentence. Tyreese shoved him away and did the same to Wilmur when he tried to stop him.

"Tyreese, I know how you-" Wilmur's interrupted.

"You know nothing!" Tyreese snapped, his hand raising to Wilmur to stop him from talking before turning back to Rick. "I need to say it again?"

"No. No." Rick replied, whispering. "I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there. It's dangerous."

Wilmur remembered messed up Rick was when he first met him. He lost his wife. One of the people he loved more than anyone in the world. He halluncated and drifted farther and farther away from the group. If it wasn't for Carl, he'd still be the way he once was.

"Karen didn't deserve this!" Tyreese yelled. "David didn't deserve it! Nobody does!"

Again, Daryl took a step forward and tried to pull Tyreese away from Rick. "All right, man, let's-"

Tyreese suddenly jumped on Daryl and shoved him against the brick wall, causing Wilmur to pull his gun out and aim it to Tyreese's head. He wouldn't actually shoot him, but he needed to get Tyreese of his adoptive father.

"Man, I ain't going nowhere till I find out who did this!" Tyreese yelled in Daryl's face.

Daryl raised a hand behind Tyreese's shoulder, motioning Rick and Carol to step back and for Wilmur to lower his pistol. When they did, Daryl lowered his raised arm and looked back at Tyreese calmly. They needed to calm him down, and showing Tyreese some sterns would only make it worse.

"We're on the same side, man." Daryl said calmly, trying his best to calm Tyreese down, but it wasn't working. Calmness was only making Tyreese angrier, but if they were stern toward him, then he'd get angrier.

"Hey, look," Rick said calmly. "I know what you're goin' through. We've all lost someone..."

Kevin, Anne, Mom, Penny, Milton, Andrea...

"We know what you're goin' through right now but you-you gotta calm down." Rick continued, but only earned a shove from Tyreese. Wilmur tried to stop Tyreese, but he shoved him away as well.

"You both need to step the hell back!" Tyreese snapped, glaring at both of them.

Slowly, Daryl grabbed Wilmur's shoulder and pulled him back and away from Tyreese and Rick's dangerous argument. He didn't want his son caught in the middle of it. Tyreese could end up hurting him. Rage always caused someone to get hurt.

"She wouldn't want you being like this." Rick said, but only receiving a hard punch from Tyreese.

"Stop! Stop!" Carol yelled, but it didn't stop the fight.

"Tyreese!" Wilmur yelled, trying to pull from Daryl's grip but failed.

Daryl pushed his son behind him in effort to protect him from the vengeful Tyreese. Any moment, he could end up hitting Wilmur. But Wilmur didn't care. He already made a mistake with Justin long ago. He doesn't want Tyreese to end up the same way! He doesn't want anyone to end up the same way!

Another landed against Rick's cheek again, causing more blood to splatter from his mouth.

"Stop!" Carol yelled again, but it wasn't working.

Daryl grabbed Tyreese forcefully, pulling him away from Rick. He couldn't have two of the same friends fighting each other. They only had each other and they needed to cherish it. They've been through too much together.

"That's enough!" Daryl growled.

Wilmur, who had his gun raised again, saw the rage in Rick's blue eyes. More and more rage grew every second the more he tasted the nasty blood on his tongue.

"Rick, don't." Wilmur warned, but he didn't listen to him.

Instead, Rick slammed his knuckles against one of Tyreese's brown eyes. After he's down, Rick slammed his foot against Tyreese's ribcage, creating a loud cracking sound. Then he climbed on top of him and began slamming his fist against Tyreese's cheeks, nose, lips, and his black eye.

"Rick, stop! This isn't going anywhere!" Wilmur yelled, but Rick kept punching. The only thing Rick could focus on was noise of his fist slamming up against Tyreese's as blood dripped down his cheeks.

"Rick!" Daryl yelled when he didn't listen to Wilmur.

Again, Daryl pushed Wilmur back in an effort to protect him from the hardcore fight. Daryl would end up hurting both of them if they laid a finger on Wilmur. He knew his son can handle himself, but he couldn't stand the thought of someone he loved hurting his son.

"Stop!" Daryl yelled, trying to pull Rick off of Tyreese.

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" Rick yelled in rage but Daryl didn't listen. He managed to shove Rick off of Tyreese, glaring at Rick's bloody wrists.

Wilmur lowered his pistol as he stared at Rick's bloody wrists as well and Tyreese's crying form on the splattered bloody ground. All Tyreese wanted was to live the rest of his life with Karen. Even though it likely wouldn't last long, he still wanted to cherish every moment with her. But now that was all taken away from the person who killed Karen and David.

Daryl and Wilmur ended up taking Rick to Hershel and then started heading to Hershel's council meeting.

They had to do something about the flu passing around the prison while Rick will handle Tyreese. But will Rick be able to handle Tyreese? Right now, he was full of anger and vengeance. Rick would have to study Tyreese's moves and handle him carefully.

"I've never seen Tyreese act like that." Wilmur said to Daryl as they walk beside each other.

Daryl shrugged. "Me neither. He's just upset right now though."

Wilmur sighed. "Yeah, I know. Everyone's been through the same thing...I was just like him. Full of anger and revenge."

He's been through it with his ex-lover, his mother, his sister...everyone he's lost. Right now, Tyreese couldn't see everyone's been through it somehow. He felt like it was the end of the world, but he can't see he still has friends by his side. It took Wilmur awhile to figure out he still had family. After he met Carl, he finally realized there was still others in the world he can love. He just couldn't see it. His vision was blurred by Justin.

"He'll get better." Daryl reassured.

"It could take awhile." Wilmur replied.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. "What'd do you mean?"

"I was like him before. It took forever for me to come back around. It took-like a year."

It could be a very long time before Tyreese will come back around. He won't get over what's happened to him, but he'll be able to learn how to cope with what's happened. To accept it.

"He needs help."

"Listen, I don't want ya hanging 'round him right now. He's a bit too dangerous. You can hang 'round him when I'm there but don't when I'm not there. Ya understand?"

Wilmur smiled and nodded. He understood why his father didn't want him around Tyreese right now. If it was Carl, he'd wouldn't want him hanging around Tyreese either. Tyreese was just filled with selfishness right now, and it cause someone to die.

But...Wilmur hasn't had a father care for him like that. If it was Philip, he wouldn't give two shits about Wilmur. He wouldn't care if he got hurt, but Daryl does. Wilmur hasn't had a good parent for a long time. Even though Daryl was inexperienced with the parent thing, he still was a much better father than Philip.

However, he was lying to his dad. Tyreese needed help, and Wilmur can help him just like he helped Carl. He couldn't just stand by and watch Tyreese throw away who he really is.

"Good." Daryl's stern eyes softened. "See ya at the meeting."

Wilmur and Bob walked down the fields of the prison and down to the graves where they buried the loved ones who died. Sometimes, they didn't even have their bodies. They'd still create crosses for them and place their soul somewhere in the grave.

The two were guessing Tyreese would be down by the graves, burying Karen and David. He had grown too close to Karen. They've developed feelings for each other and let it take over them. But someone had taken her away from Tyreese. He was close to David as well. They were together in Woodbury. They both worked together and helped fight against the Governor.

Up ahead, a black man could be seen digging in the ground with a body that had a white sheet wrapped around them sitting laying beside the man. The man had a shovel in one hand and Karen's bracelet in another.

Bob and Wilmur bent down beside him to see his injured face. One of Tyreese's eyes were closed and was black. His bottom lip was swollen from Rick's fist slamming against it. Sweat was dripping down his face from the heat the sun was giving him.

"Tyreese, you can't stay like this forever." Wilmur said in a soft voice.

The older man ignored him and kept shoving the shovel in the dirt and lifting the dirt onto the green grass. He wasn't going to give in. He couldn't. Wilmur and Bob couldn't help him. No one could. Especially Rick.

"Man, at least let us get you cleaned up." Bob said. "You might even need a couple stitches."

"Not until they're in the ground." Tyreese stubbornly said.

"You should at least let Hershel or Dr. S take a look at you, make sure nothing's broken." Bob replied.

Tyreese finally looked up and glared at them angrily. His opened eye was filled with rage. He was growling and panting. He didn't want any help. He didn't need any. The only thing he needed right now was the person who killed Karen and David.

"When they're in the ground." Tyreese growled and continued digging.

Wilmur sighed and looked at the dirt being thrown onto the fresh, green grass. Some of the dirt even had little roots in it from how hard Tyreese was digging.

Bob picked up the shovel next to Tyreese and began digging himself. "You should probably go."

Wilmur nodded and patted Bob's back before walking back to the prison. It wasn't a good idea to hang around in the fields. After all, he had lot's of people he needed to help. Far too many people were getting sick and some were still overwhelmed from yesterday's attack.

The young teen walked back onto the prison concrete, his hand clinching his holster wrapped around his pants. He could see lot's of people walking out of the prison with the illness. They were either sweating too much, coughing, or coughing out blood. One of them was a young child. Another was an elderly. The elderly women had tripped and fallen down, but was helped up by the other sick ones.

The illness was spreading faster than anyone thought. Karen and David had it, then one day later everyone else has it?

Wilmur watched as the sick people disappeared into the distance. A blood trail was left from the dragging blood spilling from their mouths. Nothing but coughing could be heard as he walked into the prison's library where the council meeting was held. Some people was walking through the hallway with coughs slipping passed their bleeding lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Wilmur said as he walked into the council building, leaning against the wall.

"It's fine." Hershel replied before turning back to the group. Glenn, Carol, and Michonne. "It's spread. Everyone who survived the attack in cellblock D. Sasha, Caleb, and now others."

"Jesus." Daryl whispered under his breath.

"So what do we do?" Carol asked, her fingers tapping on the table.

Carol has grown so confident ever since the war with the Governor ended. She slowly began to realize that the world is what it is and there's nothing they can do to change it. She had grown cold in some ways, but she was still who she was. Just a stronger person.

"First thing's first." Hershel said. "Cellblock A is isolation."

Glenn sighed and blinked, placing his hand against his temple for a second. He didn't feel right. He felt...different. He felt warmer than normal. His heart was beating faster. He felt a little dizzy. His fingers were trembling against the table as well as his legs.

Wilmur noticed and furrowed his eyebrows and whispered, "Glenn?"

Glenn gave his head a shake and raised his hand to Wilmur, signaling that he's okay. Wilmur knew he was lying. Glenn wasn't acting like himself. Glenn was the talkative one. He always knew what to do, but he wasn't saying anything this time.

"We keep the sick people there like we tried with Karen and David." Hershel continued.

"The hell we gonna do 'bout that." Daryl questioned.

"I'll ask Rick to look into it. Try to make a timeline who's where when." Carol replied. "But what are we gonna do to stop this?"

"There is no stopping it." Hershel replied. "You get it, you have to go through it."

"But it just kills you?" Michonne questioned, causing Hershel to shift in his chair.

"The illness doesn't. The symptoms do." Hershel corrected. "We need antibiotics."

And Hershel was right. This wasn't something they could fix with plain medicine. The sickness was too serious for the medicine people took everyday in the past. When his little sister got it, the regular medicine like ifyprohen didn't help at all. The liquid type of medicine didn't help either.

When she was taken to the hospital, they gave her all kinds of different fluids and medicine. They gave her shots, pills, liquids, and fluids. And then slowly, she started to get better. It took her forever to get out of the hospital. Even after the illness was gone. They didn't want her giving to anyone.

"Wilmur." Daryl said. "You said your sister had it and she was given medicine. Do ya remember what they were?"

All he could remember was the color of the pills and the letters and numbers on them. He could only remember the color of the liquid she drank in the hospital. It was either blue or pink. The color of the needle in the shots she got was red. And he could barely remember what the fluids looked like.

"I-I can't remember."

"Try." Carol said. "We can't give up now."

The young teen stared at the strongest women they had in the entire prison. She never, ever gave up. If she had to fight for something, she would try. It was one of the few things they had left in the world. And they had to try for it.

Wilmur sighed and closed his eyes, picturing the memory.

Penny had coughed out too much blood. It stained her white, hospital dress and her pale, sweating skin. From the window, Wilmur could see the nurses and doctors placing the fluids in her skin through the little tubes.

The youngest Blake yelped in pain, only causing more blood to spill from her mouth. One of the nurses wiped the blood away and placed a tube over her lips to help her breathe.

A nurse passed by Wilmur, his mother, and his father with a clipboard in his hand and a pen in another. Before the nurse could walk any further, Wilmur grabbed his arm.

"Wait. Can we go in now?" Wilmur asked.

The nurse sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, staring through the glass pane window. Penny was slightly thrashing around while the nurse's pinned her arms down.

A shriek could be heard from his little sister. Four nurses were holding her arms down while the other nurses and doctors placed a cup in her mouth that had blue liquid in it. Another doctor sharpened a red needle and stuck through Penny's elbow.

The three look away from Penny and stare at the nurse, there eyes pouting and begging.

"Please, at least let my mom and dad go in."

The nurse sighed sadly and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we have to keep her contained."

Wilmur sighed and let's go of the nurse's arm, letting walk to his office while they look back through the door window. They watched as the blue liquid slip passed Penny's swollen lips. One of the nurse's pull out a bottle of pills and poured two of them in her hand. The pills were blue with a certain letter and number written on it.

The nurse grabbed a water bottle and placed the two blue pills in it before placing the water in Penny's bleeding mouth. She coughed, but calmed down as soon as she swallowed the pills. She was a lot calmer than she was. All four of the medications have helped her calm down. And now all they needed to do was wait for the medicine to heal her.

"I don't know what they're called, but I know exactly what it looks like." Wilmur said.

"Exactly?" Hershel questioned.

"Exactly." Wilmur replied.

Hershel nodded and turned to Daryl, the leader of the run team. "That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. What Wilmur said, the drugs are there."

"That's 59 miles." Daryl mentioned. "Too big of a risk before. Ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out."

Daryl stood up from his chair and draped his crossbow over his shoulder. "Best not to waste any more time."

Michonne took a few steps forward. "I'm in."

Wilmur raised an eyebrow. If she got in the car with them, she would be exposed to the flu. She'd be placed at a high risk of getting sick since she is one of the healthy ones getting in the car with a bunch of exposed people. The last thing they needed was more people getting sick. They had to spare enough to save everyone.

"You haven't been exposed." Hershel mentioned. "Daryl and Wilmur has. You get in the car with them..."

"They've already given me fleas." Michonne joked.

Hershel chuckled and stood up on his prosetic leg. "I can lead he way. I know where everything's kept and Wilmur does, too. He can help."

Wilmur ignored Hershel and looked at Glenn who was surely acting differently. He wouldn't sighing, trembling, looking down to the floor, or blinking his eyes too many times. Glenn always kept a strong breath, he always stood straight, he kept his head up high, and kept his eyes focused.

"Wilmur?" Hershel said when he noticed his unfocused form.

"Y-yes?" Wilmur said, looking back at Hershel.

Hershel turned his head back to the group. "There are other precautions I feel we should take."

"Like what?" Carol asked.

"There's no telling how long it'll be before Daryl and Wilmur and the group returns." Hershel responded. "Wouldn't it make sense for us to separate the most vulnerable? We could use the administration building."

Wilmur sighed and crossed his arms. Everyone in the prison was vulnerable. Anyone who was sick and not sick were vulnerable. If they were sick, they needed to take care of them. If they weren't sick, they needed to keep them safe from the illness.

"Who is the most vulnerable?" Glenn asked, struggling to hold his head up.

Everyone.

"The very young." Hershel replied.

And that was the problem. There was no young or old anymore. It's now all about people trying to survive. It doesn't matter who it is. Everyone is surviving whether it's a kid or an adult.

"What about the old?" Glenn asked, meaning about Hershel.

Glenn was right. They needed to not only keep the young safe, but they needed to keep Hershel safe as well. Hershel was one of the most important members of the group. He was one of the two doctors left. If they lost him, there's no telling what would happen. If someone got hurt, they would need him. What would they do if Hershel wasn't there?

And sure, yeah, the sick people needed him, but they were going to get medicine. They just needed to hang on one more day. They can't have Hershel risking his life for nothing.

Hershel sighed and shook his head. He couldn't go into the quarantine zone. The sick people needed his help, and he had to help them. Sure, Daryl and the group was going to get medicine, but some of them won't even last a few more hours. If Patrick and Charlie died in one day, whose to say the others can make it one more day?

"Glenn's right." Wilmur said. "You can't stay here."

"Those people need my help." Hershel argued.

"Yeah, which is why you can't be here. What if something happened? You can't help us if you get sick."

Hershel sighed and bowed his head. He couldn't just stand by and watch more and more people get sick. Lot's of people will be dead in just a few hours. Hundreds of people will be in cellblock A in just a few minutes.

"We leave in two hours." Daryl said while walking out of the library. "Get ready."

Wilmur sighed and looked at Glenn who's legs were trembling and threatening to give out. If it wasn't for Wilmur holding him up, he would've collapsed to the ground.

"Glenn." Wilmur said seriously. "Are you okay?"

Glenn just stared at a blood stain left by Patrick. Five people had walked into cellblock A since Sasha gotten sick. Each and every one of them were coughing out blood.

"Y-yeah. I'm-I'm fine." He responded, pulling away from Wilmur's grip.

"Well, I gotta go. Do you think you'll be able to handle yourself?" Wilmur asked and Glenn nodded.

The young teen nodded and walked out of the library, following his father outside. Outside, laid Zach's car. The fastest car they've got. They barely used it because they only wanted to use it if they ever had to go on a run somewhere far away. Daryl was working on the engine with it's hoodie up.

They always had to test stuff out first before they ever went on a run just in case anything was wrong. They didn't want to go on a run with a car that's about to fall apart. If they needed to leave fast, they had to leave fast. They couldn't have any problems with the car.

"Son of a bitch is a quart low." Daryl said frustratedly.

Wilmur scoffed. "Of course it is."

"You still keep it in the bottom of tower three?" Michonne asked. She gotten to car before they did. She's already put supplies in the car such as blankets and sleeping bags. They might not make it back today. If they didn't, they needed to sleep.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, sparking the engine.

Wilmur ignored Daryl and Michonne and looked ahead to see Beth with baby Judith in her arms. A bag was draped around her right shoulder. Judith was fast asleep in her arms, her face buried in Beth's neck. She must've been heading to the administration building.

"I be right back." Wilmur said.

"Where ya goin'?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur turned around before walking off. "To check on Carl."

He needed to check and see if Carl was okay with okay going to administration building. Of course, he was going whether he liked it or not, but he knew Carl felt like a weakling when he was being protected. It made Carl feel unspecial to the group, but that wasn't true. Carl was the most loveable member of the group along with Judith.

Especially to him. Carl was so special to him. Wilmur loved him and Judith more than anyone in the group. Although he doesn't talk to Judith much, she was still so special to him. She was completely innocent. He wished to have more time with Judith just as much as Carl.

As Wilmur walked into the prison, he could see Glenn pass by him, coughing and sweating. Wilmur's eyes widen at his sick form and quickly catched him along with Maggie when he nearly fell.

"Are you okay?!" Wilmur asked.

Glenn coughed. "I-I'm fi-fine."

"Are you sure?!"

"Yeah."

Wilmur looked at Maggie who had a depressed and shocked look on her face. She couldn't believe her husband was now sick with the deadliest flu. His chances of dying were too high. All she could do was hope he can fight through the illness an get medicine fast.

"I'm taking him to cellblock A." Maggie said.

"Do you want me to come?" Wilmur asked.

Maggie shook her head. "It's fine. I got him."

Wilmur watched as Maggie walked off with Glenn in her arms. They've just lost another member in the prison to help out. Far too many people were getting sick with the illness. If they couldn't contain the flu, then eventually, everyone in the prison will have it.

And everyone will die.

Carl watched as Beth rocked Judith. She was gently patting her back to calm Judith's little sniffles down. She sensed everyone was in trouble. She sensed the illness passing around the prison.

The young teen sighed and reloaded his gun. He wished he could help the sick people, but he knew Rick and Wilmur wouldn't appreciate it. They wanted to keep him unexposed to the sickness. He felt like a weakling, but he knew they weren't protecting him because he was weak. They just didn't want him risking his life when there was nothing he could do. Wilmur wanted to keep Carl safe. He never wanted to lose him like he lost Penny.

But...it was the same for Carl. He hated letting Wilmur leave the prison almost every single day. He risks his life every time he stepped one foot out of the prison. He's already almost died more than a thousand times. If he lost Wilmur, he'd don't know what he'd do. He's not sure if he'll be able to go on or not. Wilmur would have to die for him to figure it out. But he didn't want to figure it out. He wanted to live his life with Wilmur.

Judith's whines snapped Carl out of his thoughts. The baby had her arms held out toward her brother, her eyes pouting for him to hold her. Carl chuckled and put his gun on the floor, taking his baby sister from Beth's arms. Judith clinged to her brother's sleeves, accidently lifting it up to see Carl's dark bruises Patrick had left two days ago.

The baby looked into Carl's eyes, tears filling them, knowing someone had hurt her brother. Beth noticed the bruises and took Judith from Carl's arms, rocking her until she fell asleep before gently placing her in the crib. She made her way back over to Carl.

"May I see the bruises again?" She asked.

Carl sighed and rolled his sleeves up to reveal the dark bruises that Patrick had caused. Beth examined them inch by inch. She gave her head a shake before grabbing a blue washrag and handed it to Carl

"Two things. First; how did this happen. Second; dip this washrag in cold water and wipe it on your bruises. It should help them."

Carl took the washrag. He didn't want to reveal himself to Beth, but he knew she wouldn't leave him alone until she found out what created the bruises. "Well...I had this friend...and he...I mean-he did this to me...he's dead now though."

Beth nodded. "Well...the good thing is that it's over."

"Is that what you said after Zach died?" Carl questioned but immiedently regretted asking it. He didn't want to hurt Beth. She was like an older sister to him. He used to have a crush on her, but after he developed feelings for Wilmur, the crush went away.

Beth flinched. She didn't really love or cared for Zach. She only let herself be with him because she thought he was the last decent boy on earth. She mourned to find her true love, but it was hard because everyone either died or went bad.

"To be honest...I didn't really love Zach. I was with him only because I thought there was no there boy. Love is too hard to find these days."

Carl shook his head. "You'll find him or her one day. The walkers may have taken a lot from us, but believe it or not, they also gave us something. It gave Glenn and Maggie each other. It gave us Judith. It gave us each other. It gave me Wilmur. If the apocalypse never happened, none of us would be together right now."

And it was true. If none of this ever happened, he would've never met Wilmur. He'd probably find some random girl in school. And he didn't want it that way. He wanted someone he could last forever with like Wilmur.

"Every time something gets taken from us, we get something back. If you really listen, you've achieved so many things. You lost your mom, but you got a new family. You lost the farm, but you got the prison. You lost your old boyfriend, but you got a new one. And you will again. Except it'll be real love next time."

He could remember telling Wilmur the same exact thing. When Wilmur was Justin, he threw away everything he got back like it was nothing, but he helped Wilmur see it and get it back.

"I've already earned something." Beth smiled, looking at the crib.

"And you will earn something else." Carl smiled. "It's coming up. You just have to be patient."

Beth smiled at Carl. "Do you really believe that?"

Carl smiled bigger. "Yes, I do."

"You should probably go clean your arms now." She said and Carl nodded.

The young teen traveled back to his cell and turned on the sink, wetting the washrag before harshly wiping it across the bruises on his arms. It stung, but he needed it to heal. He didn't want anyone else seeing the bruises. He accidently wiped too harshly that the bruises started to bleed, but he didn't care. It would probably help.

As Carl bent his arms into the sink to wash the blood away, he looked in the mirror. The bruises were darker than he thought they were. Some of the bruises were cleaned and turned from a dark purple color to a light pink color.

"Carl?" Rick moved the curtain to see his son's bruised, bleeding arms.

Rick dropped the orange bag he was holding and took a few steps closer to Carl. Not too close, but close enough. He didn't want to get his son exposed to the illness.

Anger filled Rick's veins. Someone had hurt his boy! Someone had planted bruises on Carl's skin! And now he was sitting there, cleaning and trying to get it to heal!

"What happened?!" Rick asked.

"Nothing." Carl responded.

Rick glared. "Nothing? It's somethin'. Who did this to you?!"

Carl turned around and glared at his father. "The boy you made me hang around with."

The father froze. "Patrick?"

How could one of Carl's best friends hurt him? They had been really close, right? All this time, Patrick had been lying to him that him and Carl were great friends but they weren't. Patrick was lucky he was dead. If he was still alive, either Rick or Wilmur would've killed him already.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rick asked angrily.

"Because he died before I could." Carl replied, still washing his arms.

His skin was bleeding from how hard he was scratching the bruises. Yeah, the rag will help, but not if he's using it against his skin harshly.

"Stop! You're making it worse!" Rick said.

"No." Carl corrected. "I'm trying to heal it."

Rick sighed. "It's not gonna heal if you use the washrag too hard. Wipe it gently. The blood's gonna get the bruises infected."

Carl ignored his father and pulled his sleeves back down. The blood and water on his skin soaked into his sleeves and made a damp color. "What's the orange back for?"

Rick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Carl was going to be angry when he told him, but he had no choice. He couldn't just throw Carl into the administration building without telling him. It'd just make him angrier.

"You're leaving. It's too dangerous for you to be here." Rick spit out. He wanted to say it and get it over with.

"What?! Why?!" Carl said, crossing his arms.

He couldn't leave the prison! Not just because of some illness passing around! He's not leaving his father or Wilmur behind! He's for a reason! To protect people! Not to be protected!

"Karen and David got sick, and someone killed them. Now more people are getting sick. We're separating everyone. You, Beth, Judith, and Hershel will go to the administration building."

Carl's anger only grew more, but tried to keep it contained inside. "What about you and Wilmur?"

He couldn't leave his lover and father behind! They always protected him and kept him safe from the dangers in the dangerous world! He needed a chance to protect them! It was his turn!

What if they both got sick? Carl wouldn't be able to live anymore if he lost them both! If Wilmur were to get sick, he wanted to stay by his side and help him heal. If Rick got sick, he wanted to help Dr. S make him better.

"I'm gonna be tryin' to figure out who killed Karen and David. Wilmur will be on a run with Daryl and the run team to bring back medicine for the sick people. They might not be back for awhile though. The place they're goin' to is fifty miles away."

"I want to go then." Carl said strongly.

He couldn't let his lover go on a run that would take him a long time to get back. A long time could mean days or even weeks! He wasn't going to let Wilmur go through the danger alone for such a long time!

"Carl-" Rick's interrupted.

"Please, Dad. I don't want him being out there for a long time. Anything could happen."

"Yeah, I know." Rick replied. "Which is why I need you here."

Carl sighed and shook his head, burying his face in his hands. How could everything go so wrong? Two people got sick and the next day, everyone gets sick. And now his lover was going somewhere fifty miles away, and Rick wasn't going to let him go. Does he not know how much it worried Carl? If he lost Wilmur...

"Wilmur wouldn't want you goin' out there." Rick reassured, but Carl didn't listen.

He kept his face buried deep into his hands. All he wanted to do was to protect Wilmur just like Wilmur protected him. Why couldn't his father see that?

"Hey." Rick said in a comforting tone, trying to grab Carl's attention. "Look at me."

The young teen shook his head. He couldn't look at his father right now. Not when he was acting like a weakling and a cry baby.

"Look at me." Rick said again but in a more stern voice.

Carl then looked up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Wilmur ha walked in just in time to see the crystal tears in Carl's beautiful, light blue eyes. A single tear dripped down Carl's cheek as he looked up at his father.

"Hey." Rick said in a comforting tone again. He wish he could step forward and hug his son, but he couldn't. He could expose him and that was the last thing Rick wanted.

Wilmur stepped beside Rick, eyes softening at Carl's beautiful, teary eyes. He could barely remember the last time he's seen Carl cry. It was too rare for Carl to cry. He's been so strong and happy. It hurt Wilmur to see his lover crying.

"What's wrong?" Wilmur asked in a soft voice, ignoring Rick.

Carl sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears. He didn't want his lover to see him crying. He knew it would hurt him. When he had his night terrors, it hurt Wilmur too much to see him cry. He didn't want it to happen again

"He's a little upset." Rick said. "He wants to go with you on the run since you'll be gone a long time. He's scared to lose you."

"I'm not scared." Carl defended, but it wasn't true. At the moment, everything was going chaotic. Things could get much worse than they really are.

Wilmur sighed as he stared sadly at Carl. Like Rick, he wish he could hug Carl and kiss his tears away. But there was nothing he could do to comfort his lover. He couldn't get him exposed. It was too much of a risk Wilmur didn't want to take no matter how much he wanted to comfort Carl.

"Carl, listen. I just need you to do your job. Don't worry about me. I go on runs almost everyday and I always come back. Besides, no walker can kill me. I'm invincible."

The younger teen cracked a smile, sniffling. But what Wilmur said was true. No walker can really kill Wilmur. He's went on too many runs for a walker to kill him. He was too strong and powerful for walkers to beat. Wilmur, however, wasn't too sure about what he just said. Sure, he always came back alive and well, but that place they were going to was fifty miles. They might not only run across walkers, but dangerous people, too. They've experienced many bad people in the past. Who's to say they won't run across stranger danger?

"All you need to is worry about the prison. I'll be okay. I promise."

Wilmur wasn't sure if he could keep the promise, but he can keep the promise about him being okay. No matter what happens, he'll be okay. Even if he gets injured or killed.

"He's right." Rick said, picking up an orange bag and throwing it on Carl's bunker. "Now, why don't you start packing. We have to get you outta here as soon as we can."

The young teen wiped his nose and nodded, grabbing a few cloths from his drawer and placing it in his bag. One of the jackets he had was Wilmur's.

One night, Carl woke up from one of his night terrors and he was freezing from the night crispy air. Wilmur had put his black jacket on him to keep him warm and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shh." Wilmur said when Carl woke up crying from one of his terrifying nightmares.

In his nightmare, he was standing in the middle of a snowy, freezing field. The blizzard snow was covering his entire building. His brown hair was now crystal white from the freezing snow.

Then suddenly, blood started to travel up the snow and circled around Carl. Then the blood slowly started to rise around him. The blood formed body forms made thousands of walkers. The walker snarling filled Carl's ear. Each snarl could be heard from each of the stupid beasts. His flesh immiediantely started to get ripped from him.

Carl screamed.

The loudest scream anyone could far beyond imagine.

And the worst part was he couldn't die. No matter how much flesh was ripped from him, he couldn't die. He'd have to stand there and let the flesh get ripped from him without dying.

No...

The worst part was his lover was standing on a white, snowy hill in the distance and he was laughing. His index finger was pointing toward Carl as he laughed as Carl got ripped apart without dying.

It was one of the worst dreams Carl's ever had. It was Wilmur's soothing voice and arms that woke him up.

"You're okay." Wilmur reassured when Carl whined, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder.

Carl shivered as Wilmur's palm rubbed his shoulder. He could remember how cold he was in the dream. He still felt as cold as he was in the dream.

"Are you cold?" Wilmur asked when he felt Carl's shaking and shivering body.

The younger teen just snuggled into Wilmur's neck, trying to get some of his body warmth. Wilmur pushed Carl away for a moment to pull off his black jacket.

"Sit up for a second." The older lover said softly.

The younger lover obeyed and sat up, shaking to death from being to cold in his dream. Wilmur pulled Carl into the warm, black jacket. Wilmur had already made it warm. Carl's body already started to grow warmer as soon as the jacket hit his shivering body.

"Better?" Wilmur asked and Carl nodded.

The two lovers lay down again, Wilmur's arm dragged around Carl to pull him closer. Carl snuggled into his neck, his hand gently laying on Wilmur's chest. Wilmur gently rubbed Carl's back as he gently kissed Carl's cheeks to kiss the tears away. Carl's eyes dropped slowly as he lightly fell asleep in Wilmur's warming arms and jacket.

The young teen pushed away the memory and placed a picture of his mother and father in his orange bag. He missed his mom. He wondered if she would like Wilmur. Would she approve of him being in love with a boy? He pushed the motherly thoughts away and grabbed his gun, placing it in his holster wrapped around his leg. He stared at his father who had a worry expression and at Wilmur who had no expression except love and comfort.

Rick was still a bit uncomfortable about his son having his gun back. What if he tried something else with it like he did with the boy's in the woods after the Governor attacked the prison.

"Anybody gets sick, you let me know." Rick said, trying to push the armed thoughts away.

Carl sighed, picking up his orange bag. "What if they've already turned when I find them?" He was testing his father about his gun. Did he really feel comfortable about giving his son back his gun?

Wilmur knew Carl was testing his father. He often did it a lot just like Wilmur did. Rick may be different about things in the inside. He often was. He did with Carl's work hours in the prison fields.

"You don't fire it unless you absolutely need to." Rick warned as flashes of memories of Carl killing the boy in the woods flashed through his mind. He couldn't have his son commiting the same thing again.

"You do know he might need to, right?" Wilmur questioned Rick, showing defence for Carl again. It seemed like Rick would rather have a bad person kill his son instead of his son killing someone else.

Rick's glare was enough to shut Wilmur up.

"But you know I might need to, right?" Carl continued. Wilmur was right. Chances were something was going to happen and Carl would have no choice.

Rick gave a nod and Carl walked out, giving Wilmur one last glance. "Please, be careful."

Wilmur smiled and nodded. "I will. Now, stop crying. I'll be okay."

Carl sighed and looked into Wilmur's blue eyes. He wasn't near him, but near enough to look into his beautiful eyes. He wished they could be together again.

He hoped the flu would come and go.

"Hey, Wilmur. Have you seen Tyreese?" Daryl asked.

"No, why?"

"We think we should have another person go on the run with us like Rick said. You still wanna do Tyreese?" Daryl simply replied.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"So is going out there with less people. Tyreese is one of the biggest guys we got."

Wilmur nodded, giving in. "I'll have a look around.

The two went there separate ways, looking for Tyreese. It wasn't a good idea to invite Tyreese along, but they needed as much people out there as they could get. Tyreese could end up being reckless. When you get angry or upset, it could make you do stupid things. And then someone can get killed. He couldn't blame Tyreese though. After he lost Kevin, he's done stupid things and said some stuff he didn't mean. Like to his mother and father. They ended grounding him for saying some mean things. His sister, however, he didn't say anything to her. He didn't want to hurt her feelings so he kept his distance.

If he lost Carl, he'd don't know what he'd do. He certainly wouldn't become Justin again. All he knew is that he'd be hurt more than ever. The thought of Carl dying was unbearing. He can never lose him. There's no telling what'd he do.

Carol walked by him. "Hey, Carol. Have you seen Tyreese?"

The women stopped and shook her head. "No, why?" She asked somewhat nervously.

Wilmur narrowed his eyes. Carol never acted nervous. She became such a strong women. She was too strong to be nervous. If she was, something obviously happened.

Karen and David...

"How come you ask?" Wilmur tested, squinting his eyes.

"Just...curious." She replied, faking a smile.

Wilmur narrowed his eyes again as he watched her walk off into the distance. Something in his gut told him she killed Karen and David. He was pretty good at reading people. She was the one who most likely killed them. She was the one who said you kill or be killed.

It was true, but she always mentioned it to everyone. She repeated every single day. She always said 'do what you have to do.' What if she felt like she had to kill Karen and David?

He knew she probably didn't mean any harm but...it was harmful.

Carl patrolled the administration building. He was told to keep an eye on everyone and make sure no one got sick. Even though they weren't exactly exposed to the illness, they still were. They were near their loved ones before they even knew it was spreading.

As he walked down the halls, he thought of Wilmur. He wondered if he'll be okay on the run. He told him he would come back alive, but that doesn't mean he'll get hurt. And, yeah, sure, they've gone thirty days without an accident once but that was just once. Accidents were bound to happen again sometime in the future whether it would be devasting or not.

And that was just the problem. Wilmur was kidnapped and beaten. Whose to say it can't happen again? They will run across walkers for sure, but what if they run across people? What if they take and beat Wilmur just like what happened with his father?

Either way, there was nothing he could do. If Wilmur lived then hurray. If he died then there's nothing he can do about it.

Carl looked up when he heard footsteps. He's been patrolling the building for what felt like hours and hasn't heard anyone step out of their rooms. Hershel walked through the shadows and tried to head out the door that will lead to the outside world.

"Where you going?" Carl asked, but he knew where he was going.

Hershel stopped his tracks and looked at the young teen. "I'm down here away from y'all 'cause you kids are suppose to stay away from me."

Carl took a few steps forward. "I've been walking the halls. My dad told me to look out for everyone."

"Well, you should keep your distance." Hershel said, noticing the Carl taking closer steps.

"You're walking towards the exit." Carl mentioned.

"I need to go out there." Hershel replied.

"To the cellblocks?" Carl questioned.

"To the woods." He corrected.

Carl scoffed. "So you're sneaking out."

"Don't need anyone worrying about me and I damn sure don't want someone telling me I can't go."

"I can't just let you go out to the woods by yourself."

"Let me?" Hershel questioned.

Carl sighed quietly. Honestly, he couldn't stop Hershel. He couldn't stop anyone from doing anything. That wasn't his job. His job was to protect and look out for everyone.

"I can't stop you." Carl said. "But I have to tell my dad."

Hershel sighed. "Go ahead, then. I'll be out there by the time you find him."

Carl sighed frustratedly, but there was nothing he could do to stop Hershel. All he could do was follow Hershel outside and protect him like he was told to do.

"Hershel." Carl walked forward, stopping Hershel from walking out the door. "If you have to go, then I have to come with you."

"Carl-" Hershel's interrupted.

"I have to."

Hershel grunted in frustration before nodding. He knew Carl wasn't going to let him go out there alone. If it was switched around, he wouldn't let Carl go out there alone. Carl followed Hershel out of the building and into the woods with the safety on his gun clicked off.

It felt different being in the woods. He hasn't been outside the prison in a long time. He's spent all of his time farming and sleeping inside. He's forgotten what it felt like to be outside

The young teen stared through the green colored woods. His heart was slightly beating faster than usual. It just felt...different. It felt different being out there again after such a long time. He hasn't even killed a walker in a long time. Sure, he's killed some by the fence but that was it. He wasn't familar with being outside anymore.

"Let's stop here." Hershel said, walking toward a bush with berries.

Carl took watch as he looked into the green forest. He hasn't even seen nature in a long time. At the prison, he didn't hear any birds chirping or any wind breezing by. There was some things he missed about the outside, but he knew it was dangerous to be out there.

Violence could tormanent them any second now. As much as it felt good to be outside again, they needed to get back inside and fast.

Hershel looked at Carl's gun. He couldn't remember the last time Carl actually held one. "When did your dad give it back?"

The young teen snapped back into a clear vision. "Yesterday. After everything happened."

"You've grown a lot these last few months." Hershel mentioned and it was true. Even though Carl hasn't been outside once but has been farming instead, he's still grown and matured so much. "There's a responsibility about you. I think it's done you good to step back."

"Yeah...it was all right."

But it wasn't. Carl would highly disagree. All he's managed to do was to plant food. It didn't help anything. It didn't keep people safe, nor keep them from dying.

Carl didn't even feel right being in the woods because of it. He's been locked up and kept safe for so long, he's forgotten everything. He knew Wilmur surely hadn't though. He went outside almost everyday. Although Wilmur was familar with what it was like being outside the prison, it was still highly dangerous and stressing. They always ended up running sooner or later. They always came back with sweat and blood covering their bodies.

Wilmur said that it just kept getting more and more dangerous and more and more stressing. They always got frustrated. Wilmur never wanted Carl to go out there, but he knew he would have to one day. He always warned Carl be extra careful if he ever left the prison.

"I would've been fine on my own." Hershel said. "It's peaceful out here."

It was peaceful. There was no walkers or people to hurt them. The only thing there was the silent breeze and the singing birds that Carl never got to hear.

"These last couple days, we might be safer outside those walls than in." Hershel continued.

Carl looked forward to see a tent with a walker stabbed against a tree nearby. The person was either killed or sick before it died and came back. It's been up the tree for so long that it's started to blend into it. Branches and leaves and fungus was growing on the walker.

"No, we're not." Carl corrected, pointing forward with his gun that had a silencer on it.

The two walked a few more steps to see a closer look at the tent and walker. The person died a long time ago. His body definitely wasn't fresh. Fungus had already grown on it. Carl kept his gun held toward the tent. Just because someone nearby it died doesn't mean someone is actually still living there. If there was, they'd be far too close to the prison.

Snarling could be heard from the walker slammed up against a tree with fungus growing all over it. Some of it's bones were showing. The person had died a long time ago. The walker turned it's head to see Carl and Hershel. It's hand raised up and snarled more.

It couldn't get up. It was too weak and too stuck to the tree.

"Let's wrap this up." Hershel said, draping his white bag over his shoulder. They needed to get out of there. Because of the tent, someone was probably nearby.

The two flinched when they heard rattling behind them. They turned around with Carl's gun held up. The walker had ran into somewhat like a mouse trap awhile ago and got it's foot stuck. Carl held up his gun, finger on the trigger. But just as he was about to pull it, Hershel stopped him.

"Don't. You don't need to."

Carl recalled his father's words.

Don't fire it unless to absolutely need to.

The young teen lowered his gun, clicking his safety back off. The walker desperately tried to walk faster toward them, but failed. Before it could get any closer, the two men walked away.

"It was so peaceful." Hershel said.

But it wasn't peaceful anymore. Snarling had filled their ears instead of singing birds. The peacefulness has slipped away and he doubted he'll hear it again for a long time.

"It was." Carl said. "Can't be like that all the time."

Wilmur helped Bob carry the gas. All they needed was to put gas in the car and then they'd be set.

"Everything look alll right?" Bob asked.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, standing beside them behind the car. "Zach kept this thing running pretty good."

"Did you find Tyreese?" Wilmur asked. He looked everywhere but couldn't find him anywhere. Not even near Karen's grave. No one saw where he went.

"Yes, but he didn't wanna go." Daryl replied.

Wilmur grunted while placing gas in the car. He wasn't technically worried about Tyreese. He was worried about Carol. The women who most likely killed Karen and David. She wasn't acting like herself. She flinched when he mentioned he was looking for Tyreese.

The young teen placed bags in the trunk before shutting it down ragefully. It's not that he's mad. It's just that Carol killed two of her own people when they had a chance to be saved. They were going out and getting medicine now. If she didn't kill them then they could've been given medicine and they could've survived.

But they couldn't anymore. They were dead and gone.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, noticing his son's rage.

Wilmur faked smiled. "I'm fine."

Daryl gave grunt while placing another bag in the car. He handed Wilmur another bag to put in the trunk when Tyreese walked to them. He still wanted Tyreese to stay away from his son at the moment even though he asked them to come along on the run.

"Can you put this in the trunk for me?" Daryl asked, handing Wilmur the bag and he nodded.

Wilmur grabbed the bag from Daryl's grip and made his way to he trunk, opening it and shoving the bag in before closing it again. He looked back up to see Daryl and Tyreese talking.

Rage was visible in Tyreese's opened eye. Growling was threatening to ripple from his chest. It was clear that Daryl made Wilmur put the bag away to keep him away from Tyreese.

"What's up?" Daryl said.

"Still got room for one more?" Tyreese asked.

"Hell, yeah." Daryl responded.

"Good. Just gotta get my gear." Tyreese said.

It would be hard for him to keep his son away from Tyreese, but they needed as much people they could get no matter who it was. But Tyreese was only going because he was in rage. He needed something to kill. And that can make it dangerous. After Tyreese walked off to get his gear, Daryl walked to Wilmur and looked him in the eyes.

"Listen, I still want ya to stay away from Tyreese. You understand?"

Wilmur shrugged. "Sure, but what if we run into trouble?"

"We still protect each other. Just don't hang around him much. You saw what he was like with Rick. I don't want ya ending up the same way."

"I understand." Wilmur said. "But you do know he will cause trouble. Rage only causes trouble."

"Yeah...I know." Daryl replied. "But we need as much people as we can get. The college is fifty miles away. That's basically one hundred miles since we have to drive there and back. We need a lot of people."

Wilmur nodded, reloading his gun and clicking the safety off before placing it back in his holster. He grabbed his water bottle before getting in the backseat. They would have to spare the water bottle. They could barely get any because most of it was for the sick people. Now they only had one and they had to share.

Daryl climbed in the driver's seat while Michonne climbed into the other front seat a little while afterwards. Bob got the window side in the back while Wilmur sat in the middle.

It felt like forever for Tyreese to finally come back with his gear. He placed it in the trunk and climbed in the other window side.

Tyreese was sweating more than anyone. His rage was causing him to be reckless. He didn't want to do anything except kill walkers. He wasn't going on the run to help the sick people or for his own good.

Wilmur handed Tyreese the water bottle, but he refused to drink it. He was in too much rage to drink or eat. All he needed to do was to kill walkers right now.

The young teen looked down at the dirty floor of Zach's car while Daryl was driving. If Zach didn't die, he'd probably be with them right now, heading to the college to get the medicine.

"Hey." Bob whispered, holding open his hand so Wilmur could give him the water.

Wilmur placed the water bottle in his hands and watched as Bob took tiny sips. He was barely drinking any. He was trying to spare it.

Silence was filling the car after Michonne and Daryl got finished talking. Wilmur didn't listen to a word they said. All he thought about was the guy they lost two days ago.

"Do you think there would be anything on the radio?" Wilmur asked, breaking the silence.

Daryl turned on the radio, but the only thing they got was static. Every radio tower in the United States was down. He remembered turning up the radio after it all started and he didn't get nothing. The day before, he got warnings and places of shelter. But the next day, everything was gone.

"Would you hand be one of them CDs right there?" Daryl asked Michonne.

Michonne picked up a packet of CDs but froze as soon as she heard something on the radio speak.

"...find sanctuary..."

"Is that a voice?!" Bob asked.

"The hell?" Wilmur said, his eyes squinting at the radio.

Daryl placed a finger over his lips, motioning everyone to be quiet. There could be a shelter somewhere! Maybe some place like they were told about Atlanta! A whole group of people could be alive in one state or capital city!

"...determined to survive...keep alive."

The voice suddenly faded away into static. It's voice was muffled into the static of the radio. They could barely tell what the person was saying.

Suddenly, as if a flip switched, started sliding everywhere on the road. Walkers had stopped them from driving correctly. Now Daryl was trying to dodge the walkers on the road as well as the chances of wrecking.

Daryl steered the wheel from right to left. More walkers kept getting in the way, blocking Daryl's path. Wilmur clinged onto the front seats in order to keep himself from flying out of the window. He had no seatbelt on. There was no seatbelt for the middle seat.

Finally, they managed to drive straight again.

But...they couldn't drive any further. Packs of walkers blocked the road. Each and every one of the walkers snarling grew louder as they watch the car with flesh in it.

"Oh, shit." Wilmur whispered, pulling his gun out of his holster and clicking the safety off.

He remembered when he, Carl, Rick, and Michonne went on that run and walkers blockaded the road. Rick had told them to close their ears while he shot the walkers.

"Grab something!" Daryl yelled, trying to back the car up, but it was hard because there was too many walkers to run over.

"Go to the left!" Michonne said, but it couldn't work. Too many walker bodies were piled onto each other.

"We're jammed up!" Daryl said. "Make a run for the gaps right there!" Daryl told Michonne and Wilmur.

The women and young teen quickly slammed opened their car doors with Wilmur crawling over Bob's lap to get outside. Bob and Tyreese would make a run for the woods. Bob wasn't familiar with runs. Tyreese was pretty reckless right now.

They needed to protect them.

Wilmur knocked down walkers and stabbed each and every one of them in the head. He either stabbed them or brutally beat them.

"Move!" Wilmur yelled, shoving through the crowd of walkers. Daryl was right behind Wilmur, stabbing walkers right over his shoulder while Wilmur stabbed or beat walkers right over Daryl's shoulder.

A walker jumped on Wilmur, but Daryl managed to push it off while another walker was on him. The two of them stabbed and beat the walkers near anyone they loved.

Bob had already gotten out of the car and started shooting at the walkers. Meanwhile, Tyreese stood in the car, watching as Michonne, Wilmur, and Daryl brutally killed the walkers just like how someone brutally killed Karen and David.

But it wasn't someone. Wilmur knew it was most likely Carol.

"Ty!" Wilmur heard Bob yell.

The young teen looked behind him to see Tyreese still in the car. Tyreese just ignored Bob and kept staring.

"Tyreese!" Wilmur yelled as he stabbed his way through the walkers.

With rage, Tyreese jumped out of the car and brutal starting stabbing, kicking, and punching walkers harder than any of them. Rage was filling his veins with every walker he killed.

Wilmur quickly tried to rush over to Tyreese, ignoring the plan Daryl told them to follow. But Daryl grabbed a hold of Wilmur and pulled him back.

"C'mon!" Daryl said, pulling Wilmur into the woods, leaving Tyreese behind. They had no choice. Tyreese was being too reckless.

The four ran in the woods, killing each walker in their path.

"Go!" Daryl yelled, pushing Wilmur and Bob forward.

Wilmur smashed another walker in his path, now pushing Bob forward. The four ran in the middle of the woods, attempting to run farther but Daryl stopped them.

"Hold up." He said, noticing the bushes and leaves moving around. Tyreese could've followed them, but he might've not been the only one who followed them.

Wilmur held his gun up, clicking the safety off and placing his finger on the trigger. Walkers slipped passed the bushes, but Tyreese was right behind them. He smashed his hammer right into the walker's skull.

Wilmur lowered his gun, clicking the safety back on. Tyreese had blood staining his skin and cloths. Sweat was dripping down his face from all the rage he had against walkers.

"Come on." Wilmur said, helping Tyreese get back on his feet along with Daryl and Bob. The five run deeper into the forest, trying to escape the chaos. Wilmur knew something like that was going to happen. Walkers or humans always manage to get in the way. All they do is run when they go out there.

He had promised Carl he would come back, but he wasn't completely sure himself. All Wilmur managed to do was break promises, but Wilmur always came back to Carl. It's the way it always was.

But what if it's different this time? What if everything goes wrong like it is now? What if Wilmur doesn't make it back to Carl? What if they don't even make it back? 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Broken Rocks

Wilmur placed a sweaty hand on his forehead to block the sun from beating down on his head any longer. His cheeks were colored red and his breath was hitched from panting too much. His legs were trembling from running too fast for too long and his stomach growled for food.

They've been running from walkers without any rest for at least two hours now. They had to keep running back for Tyreese every time he lashed out at a hundred walkers. All they've been doing was running back and forth for him. It exhausted everyone. They were even beginning to think maybe bringing Tyreese along wasn't such a good idea.

The vengeful man had covered himself in so much walker blood, the walkers couldn't smell him anymore. The only thing that covered the rest of them was sweat.

"Let's stop here. We needa talk and Tyreese needs to clean himself." Daryl said, pointing his head toward the water under the bridge.

Wilmur sighed and looked at Tyreese. His growling was still rippling passed his busted lips. His fist was clenching his bloody hammer tightly. Blood was staining his shirt and pants as well as his face.

"I don't need to clean my cloths." Tyreese growled.

"Ty, if you don't wash off, the blood and sweat will make you're pants soggy and trust me, it's not a good feeling." Wilmur said.

The vengeful man growled, but obeyed, slamming his hammer onto the hard, wooden bridge before storming off to the river. He threw water over his face and exposed skin before throwing his shirt off and soaking it into the river. Each time he squeezed the soaked shirt, blood splattered out. He was growling with each squeeze of his shirt. He was squeezing it tightly, as if he was choking the person who killed Karen and David.

If it was true, Carol was the one who killed Karen and David. It made sense because she did whatever it took to survive. Of course, everyone did but Carol was always the one who always believed to kill was to kill, just like the Governor said. If his predictions were true, there'd be nothing but blood if Tyreese ever figured it out.

"Maybe I should go help him." Wilmur whispered to Daryl.

Daryl shook his head. "No, I want ya to stay away from him."

Wilmur sighed and looked at Tyreese's vengeful face. Each second, the rage and anger grew across his face more and more along with his growls. The moment Tyreese looked up to see each and every one of them staring at him, he glared. Everyone was pretending to understand, but they didn't. No one had lost a true loved one. Not even Rick. His heart had shattered into a million pieces and his rage was creating a new, angry heart.

Daryl sighed deeply when he noticed the disappointed look on his son's face. "Look, I'll let ya hang 'round him when he calms down a little. But right now, we just needa just give 'em some time."

The young teen nodded, his finger tapping his pistol. "It's fine. I understand."

"Good." Daryl replied, his fingers gripping his crossbow after turning around to see Michonne. "Hey, Michonne. Where are we?"

"This is Turner Creek," She replied. "So Barnesville must be a few miles downstream."

"Sounds like our best chance at finding a new ride." Bob said.

Walkers had taken over their car. It'd be harder and longer for them to get to the medicine in the college if they didn't find another car. By the time they'd get back, everyone would already be dead. The ones who wouldn't be dead would have the terrible illness. Including the ones who weren't exposed.

"Yo, Ty!" Daryl yelled. Tyreese looked up and glared. "C'mon, let's go."

Tyreese didn't listen. Instead, he glared at the four of them. He wasn't moving until his shirt was completely, one hundred percent clean. Until his entire body was clean. He'd clean his shirt all day if he has to. The others can leave without him.

Daryl and Michonne had already walked off, but Wilmur and Bob stayed on the bridge, waiting for Tyreese to soak the blood out of his dirty, purple shirt. They wouldn't leave him behind. They both know Tyreese needed help, and Wilmur was willing to help him.

Bob reloaded his pistol. "Ty!"

Tyreese just ignored him and continued to squeeze the blood out of his shirt.

"Ty!" Bob yelled again, making Tyreese angrier. "There should be a town few miles south!"

"Lost a whole night!" Tyreese said angrily. "My sister, everybody else...they're probably dead."

Wilmur sighed frustratedly. "Come on, Ty. You know that's not true."

Tyreese glared at Wilmur. "How the hell would you know?!"

"I know." Wilmur replied. "Your sister is really tough. In fact, Sasha is too tough to die."

"Karen wasn't." Tyreese said coldly, tears filling his eyes as he pictured his beautiful girlfriend's smiles and laughs.

All he could think of was Karen. If she was still alive, it would've gave him hope. But she wasn't. She was gone, and she was never coming back. He'll never, ever see her again. He'll never hear her happy laughs and see her bright smiles.

No one could understand him.

Rick couldn't help him. Wilmur couldn't. Bob couldn't. Sasha couldn't. No one could.

"I know you miss her." Wilmur said. "But you have to keep going. When something gets taken from you, you always get something back."

"You don't know anything, Wilmur." Tyreese growled. "I have no one left."

"Coming from the guy who still has his sister." Wilmur mentioned.

Tyreese growled. "Coming from the guy who is a disgusting, little faggot whose gay with some other nasty faggot he met off the fields in the prison."

Wilmur flinched and glared. No one was allowed to say something like that to him. He wasn't disgusting, nor was Carl. Tyreese was the one who didn't understand if he called him a faggot for being in love with someone. He was the one who was a faggot if he didn't understand what it really meant.

Tyreese was completely misunderstood. He knew he was angry because he lost someone he loved, but that was no reason to go around and make someone else's relationship with someone. If he thought that was okay, then he was the one who didn't understand.

"Uh-excuse me?" Wilmur said angrily, his glares visible in his blue eyes. "Excuse me? You're the one who doesn't understand! You're acting like you're the only who lost someone! You know, I was like you! I acted like a stupid, selfish person like you once, too! But I don't act like that anymore! I got rid of Justin because I didn't want to be like him anymore, but you do! You don't even bother to listen to what Karen would want!"

Tyreese glared. "You and I aren't the same! You even stayed Justin for a year!"

"I know and I regret it!" Wilmur yelled. "I didn't want you making the same mistake! I tried to help you but never mind!"

He stormed off the bridge, his arms crossed. Scoffs were slipping passed his lips with each crackling sound the rocks made each step he took. He picked up a rock and threw it across the air in rage. He was angry at Tyreese for insulting his and Carl's love. If he could, he would be cursing out Tyreese right now.

They've only been together a few hours and Wilmur already has so much to tell Carl about Tyreese.

Wilmur ended up accidently bumping into his father, causing both of them to pull out both their weapons and point it at each other. They lowered it when they realized it was just each other. He couldn't tell Daryl what Tyreese had said to him. Daryl would end up killing him.

"Sorry." Wilmur said.

The father shook his head. "No, s'okay."

The young teen smiled, shielding his father from seeing his anger. He couldn't let Daryl see his anger. If he did, he would figure out why he's angry two minutes later.

"You ready?" Daryl asked, withdrawing his bow from his crossbow.

"We're waiting on Ty and Bob." Wilmur replied, placing his gun in his holster before looking behind him too see Bob on the bridge. "I don't think we should let Tyreese come on runs anymore."

Daryl squinted his eyes. "Why? Did he say somethin'?"

"No." Wilmur lied.

He didn't know why he was defending for the man who insulted his relationship with Carl. He didn't deserve to be defended for, but if he told, Daryl would be attracting all he walkers just by yelling at Tyreese.

"Ya sure? You're not lyin' to me, are ya?" Daryl asked, unsure if his son was telling the truth.

"Nope." Wilmur replied, still lying.

He was good at lying. It's something he's achieved from his father ever since the day he was born. Even though he hated everything he took after Philip, he was grateful to be able to lie good. Lies is one of the things that could keep you alive these days.

Daryl squinted his eyes again, but softened them later. He trusted his son. If it was something Wilmur could handle himself, he'd understand if he was lying. If he couldn't, he trusted Wilmur to tell him.

Wilmur sighed, picking up a rock from the rocky ground and beginning to sharpen it with his knife. He's made plenty of rock knives that had saved his life countless times. In fact, they saved his life more than any knife every could. They didn't have to go on runs to look for knives. All they had to do was pick up a rock and start sharpening it until it's sharpened enough for it to be a knife.

"What are we doing?" Carl asked, smiling when Wilmur took his hand.

"Since your dad took your gun away, I'm gonna teach you how to make a weapon for yourself."

Carl furrowed his eyebrows. "If I'm in the prison, nothing can happen, right?"

The older lover shook his head, kissing Carl's forehead and folding his hands in his. "Nope. You need to have a weapon on you in case anything happens."

Carl sighed, following after his lover into the fields of the prison. The stars were shining and reflecting in the water puddles. The moon was full and bright. It shined on Wilmur and Carl as they walked through the fields together.

The moonlight guided them to a rocky area. The rocks sparkled against the moon, reflecting on itself as if it was a mirror. Around the entire circle of rocks, shaped the moon and reflected it as well as Wilmur and Carl's figures.

Wilmur wrapped an arm around Carl's waist, bending down to pick up two sparkling rocks. He handed one to Carl and kept one for himself. The rocks resembled against them as if they were looking into a mirror.

"You brought a knife, right?" Wilmur asked.

Carl nodded, pulling a knife from his pocket and holding it up, smiling.

Wilmur smiled back. "Good, now watch and learn."

The older lover held his knife up, beginning to gently scratch tiny particles off the rock with Carl copying. The tiny rock particles gently landed on the ground, shining beautifully against the bright, full moon.

Carl accidently scraped the rock too much, causing the tiny particles to spray on his face, glittering it. The full moon shined against Carl's cheeks, making the rock particles on his face sparkle just like the rocks.

Wilmur smiled and gently placed little kisses across Carl's cheeks. Carl giggled and wrapped his arms around Wilmur's neck, pulling him closer for a kiss upon the lips. Wilmur got the message and placed his lips against Carl's, licking his lips. The younger lover opened his mouth and let the older lover's tongue in.

Their tongues begin fighting as if they were in a wrestling competition. So far, Wilmur was winning. He was making the kiss more and more intense and passionate the more the seconds passed.

The older lover gently pushed the lover against the pig's pin wall, placing his hand under Carl's leg to hold him up. The younger lover playfully played with Wilmur's black hair while Wilmur had his hand on Carl's neck with the other under his leg.

Sadly, they had to eventually pull away for air. Both of them gasped when they pulled away, the cool air filling their lungs and controlling their breathing again. Both of their cheeks were slightly colored pink and their lips were swollen.

The two boys sit on the rocks, arms wrapping around each other for warmth. Wilmur kissed Carl's forehead, pulling out the knife and rock again before scraping again.

"As much as I don't want to, we have to get back to the lesson." Wilmur said.

Carl groaned. "Fine. Can I use your knife, though? I dropped mine and I can't find it."

Wilmur laughed. "All right, sure."

However, they barely make a rock knife without them resisting each other.

Wilmur smiled at the memory, picking up another rock from the rocky ground and scraping it to a shape. He always came back from a run with a present for Carl, but this he wanted him to feel special. Carl meant everything to him. He didn't care what Tyreese or anyone else thought, he just wanted to be with his lover forever. Even though forever won't last long.

He bent to the ground and continued scraping the rock into a special shape. He remembered making a heart necklace for his mother once. Everyday, she either wore it at work or around the house. The day she died, Wilmur retrieved the necklace and kept it with him until the world went down. He hasn't seen it since.

The rock sparkled in the bright sunlight. It reminded him of Carl. The rock sparkled just like Carl's eyes does. The rock is beautiful just like Carl is. And when it's shined on, it conquers everything.

When he gets back, he'll tell Carl about the rock. He always used work as an excuse to push his lover away. It wasn't because he had no choice or he had to save everyone. It was because he was pushing his lover away. But that ends now.

Wilmur flinched and held his gun up when he heard footsteps, clicking the safety off. As soon as he realized it was just Bob and Tyreese, he lowered his gun, clicking the safety back on and placing the gun back in his holster. Tyreese, who was fighting the urge to growl, was glaring. Bob had been trying to get him to calm down, but it was hopeless. Everyone has tried to calm his anger and rage down, but no one was able to help him.

Tyreese would just have to fight through the devasting stage.

Meanwhile, he has to fight the urge to lash out at Tyreese every single day. He completely understood Tyreese's anger, but why would he say something so cruel? It wasn't like him.

"We're ready to go." Bob said.

Wilmur stood up, tucking his knife and rock in his pocket before looking at his adoptive father.

"Good. Let's get goin'." Daryl said, beginning to walk the rocky trail.

Michonne remained beside Daryl while Wilmur remained behind. Bob was behind Wilmur with Tyreese right behind him. Each of them had their hands on their weapons.

They were surrounded by a forest. All the trees were green with no other color or flower on them. Bugs crawled among the leaves, gently nibbling tiny holes into the green plant.

Mosquitoes were biting them so much, they might actually might be losing too much blood. Every time they slapped them away, they would bite their hand and create another itchy bump. They were lucky the sun wasn't setting yet. If it was, mosquitoes would be biting them non-stop.

While walking, Wilmur worked on the rock he was making for Carl. He was still trying to sharpen and shape it right. While doing so, they had to stop because Daryl had to pick up jasper, causing Wilmur and Michonne to chuckle.

By the time they make it off the forest, rocky trail, about two or three hours had passed. If they were still in a car, they could've already almost be at the college. But since they walked, they had a long way to go. They probably made it three hours or less so far.

They stopped as soon as they see a building in the distance that marked the end of the empty trail.

Wilmur pulled his gun out of his holster and clicked the safety off, pointing it toward the building. He followed Bob and Daryl while Michonne followed the angry Tyreese. They always split up into small groups when they go on runs so if something went wrong, they could get out faster.

It took Wilmur a minute to realize was staring at a bush of green leafs.

"You see somethin'?" Bob asked.

Wilmur slowly walked toward the leafy bush, his gun held to it.

"I don't know. Maybe." Daryl replied, turning around to face Bob. "Can you get Michonne and Tyreese for me?"

Bob nodded and walked behind the building. Meanwhile, Daryl was trying to pull the leafy branches off the object along with Wilmur. Michonne and Tyreese came to help one minute later.

One by one, they yanked each stiff branch off the strange, unknown object. Leafs flew everywhere and sprinkled all over their dirty cloths. It took loads and pounds of branches and leafs for them to finally tell what the object was.

A car.

"Dad." Wilmur whispered to his adoptive father.

Daryl cleared his throat. "All right, y'all keep pulling the branches off the car. I'll get in it and start it up."

Wilmur placed his gun in his holster and pulled more branches and leafs off the car along with Michonne, Tyreese, and Bob. The branches and leafs left scraps against the car and window shills. Daryl had already gotten in the car and tried to spark it when it didn't start up. Meanwhile, Tyreese was yanking each branch too hard that he could end up dislocating his shoulders. He even ended up accidently throwing a sharp branch against Wilmur's cheek, causing a blood streak.

Wilmur scoffed and threw a branch back at him, creating a deep scratch on his arm. Tyreese growled and yanked off another branch, preparing to throw another one at Wilmur but Michonne and Bob stopped him.

"Don't." Michonne warned.

Tyreese growled and slammed the branch against the ground, stomping foot on it and making it crackle. He then grabbed another branch and roared as he threw it across the air.

Wilmur shook his head, looking at Bob as he threw another branch off the car. "Hey, can you give me a little favor?"

Bob just stared at him.

"What you heard Tyreese told me, can you please not tell Daryl? It's bad enough Tyreese is being reckless. Can you just please keep it between you and me?"

"He'll most likely figure it out..." Bob said. "But I'll keep it a secret."

Wilmur smiled, breathing out a thank you. The last thing he needed was his father lashing out at someone in the group and cause them to slow down when they desperately needed to move fast. After everything's over, he might tell Daryl.

But right now, he needed to focus on getting the sick people the medicine. If they didn't do it fast, then hundreds of innocent people in the prison will be dead by the time they get back.

"We needa find a new battery." Daryl grumbled while crawling out of the dirty car. In frustration, he slammed the car door shut, most likely attracting all the walkers. He looked over at the building and made his way over to the dusty window. Before he could even clear a circle, a walker banged against the window. "We got some friends inside. C'mon."

The four followed Daryl to another bush of green leafs where the Diesel store was. Everything around the store was covered in green leaf petals and bacteria.

"Let's clear a path, see how many we got." Daryl said, beginning to chop the stubborn out of the way.

Tyreese immiedently began chopping too hard against the leafs, yanking each one off the branches. He chopped harder than any of them, grunting as doing so. Leafs flew everywhere just like it was at the car, the tiny green particles speckling against their dirty cloths.

"Hey, man, go easy." Daryl warned, chopping the leafs and branches. "We don't know what we're dealin' with."

Tyreese ignored him and chopped harder, causing Wilmur to scoff. All Tyreese had to do was listen. Did he not understand all the anger and rage can not only get him killed but get everyone else killed? It did no good to Wilmur when he was Justin. All Justin did was cause trouble and get people killed.

If only he could show what Justin had done, it could stop Tyreese from his anger, but he wasn't going to help him. He wasn't going to help a man who insulted his relationship with his lover.

With rage, Tyreese yanked his machete out of the bush hard. It was covered in red and white wires. While he pulled the wires off, they continued to chop, hoping to cut a path to the wires.

Suddenly, a walker grabbed Daryl's neck, yanking him forward. Michonne chopped the walker's arms off while Wilmur sent a knife through it's hard skull. Most of the time, walkers skulls were soft because they've been dead for so long. If the walker's skull was hard, it means it just died. However, too many walkers had hard skulls. It could only mean one thing...

Someone was nearby.

Another walker came out of nowhere in the buses, grabbed Bob and pulling him forward. Bob yelped and tried to fight against the walker while Michonne and Wilmur rushed to him. Wilmur brutally smashed the walker hard to the ground with Michonne slashing it's head off.

More walkers suddenly come from out of the bushes and grabbed a hold of everywhere, their yellow teeth chomping in front of their faces. Wilmur quickly sent a knife threw the walker's skull, but fell to the ground along with it when Tyreese yanked a walker from the bushes. The walker knocked Tyreese to the ground.

Daryl quickly grabbed the walker and yanked it off Tyreese with Bob putting a bullet through it's head.

Wilmur glared as he pushed himself off the hard ground. Because of him they nearly died. Because of him, there's blood on Wilmur's injured elbows.

Michonne glared as well. "Why the hell didn't you let 'em go?"

Tyreese shrugged off the question, eyeing Wilmur with his one eye. Wilmur rolled his eyes and walked over to his adoptive father, giving his head an annoyed shake.

"You okay?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur shook his head. "Let's just-get in the building and get out."

Daryl groaned and held his crossbow up, walking back toward the building with everyone following him from behind. As soon as he opened the door, he had to turn on the flashlight due to it being so dark.

Wilmur and Bob followed Daryl, their weapons held up. They didn't want to run across another terrible person. So far when they went on runs, they've only ran across three people. One of them, Wilmur killed, marking Wilmur's sixth person kill. The other two was killed by Daryl. They were bad people who tried to kill them. They had no choice.

"C'mon." Daryl grumbled, motioning him and Bob to keep close.

The three walked into a room with the battery they needed for the car. A walker had grabbed Wilmur's foot, but he already put his knife in his skull the moment he touched him. Wilmur silently pulled it out. He didn't want the other walkers to hear it.

Silently, he followed Daryl.

"Here we go." Daryl said, walking over to a shelf filled with tools. He pulled a box from the shelf and set it on the black desk, cutting it open.

"Hmm, cells look pretty dry." Bob said when Daryl shined his flashlight on it.

Wilmur shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"A little distilled water will clear it." Daryl mentioned.

Wilmur slightly nodded, following Daryl out of the room again, letting the bright flashlight lead the way around the dark building. Wilmur had picked up two knives and one gun from a shelf, handing one knife to Bob before following after Daryl again.

A walker snuck up on Bob, but Wilmur was able to kill it before it could take a bite out of his shoulder. The walker collapsed against the shelves, knocking two of them down like dominoes.

Daryl looked back, shining his flashlight against the crash.

"Sorry." Wilmur whispered, still holding his gun up.

Daryl shook his head and continued walking with him and Bob following. Michonne and Tyreese had went back outside to cut the leafy bushes off the car some more so they can be prepared when they bring a new battery back.

"Stop." Wilmur said, pushing Bob back when he realized something on the ground. He couldn't tell what it was, but it could possibly be a mushed walker.

Daryl shined his flashlight against it. "That's puke. Those douchebags in the vines took themselves out, holding hands-kumbaya style."

"They wanted to go out together same as they lived. That make them douchebags?" Bob asked.

"They're douchebags because they didn't even bother to put a warning out. They just straight out killed themselves, not worrying once about the good people he could come by." Wilmur said. "Besides, they didn't live when they could've. They just killed themselves. They drank that poisonous stuff when they didn't have to."

"Everybody makes it, till they don't." Bob said. "People nowadays are dominoes. What they did, maybe it's about not having to watch them fall."

The problem was they didn't have to kill themselves. They've could've made it longer until they couldn't anymore. They didn't have to stop living in the store. They could've went on and find hope for themselves. But instead, they decided to end themselves. They didn't even give themselves a chance.

It's what made Wilmur angry. Those people had a chance but they decided not to take it because they were too scared. But being scared it what keeps you alive. The only thing you do to survive is to fight the fear, and you'll make it. But those people decided to kill themselves a lot earlier.

Wilmur ignored the thoughts and followed Daryl to the end of the shelves. They could hear raspy snarling at the end of them.

"C'mon." Daryl said, motioning them to keep close again.

They walked up to the walker who was trapped under boxes with a ceiling fan collapsed on it. It snarled louder the second it saw Wilmur, Daryl, and Bob. It couldn't reach out because of the boxes and fan pinning his wrists down, but it's mouth opened wider and it's snarls grew louder.

Wilmur ignored the walker like Daryl and followed him, leaving Bob to kill the walker. He grabbed a spark for the engine just in case the battery didn't solve the car problem. He stuffed it in his pocket along with his knife and followed Daryl and Bob out of the dark building and back into the bright sunlight.

The three walked to the car and helped lift the hoodie of the car up, setting a stick against it to keep it held up. Wilmur and Bob walked to the building and leaned against it while Daryl pulled a cigarrate out and smoked. He opened the box of batteries and took one out, placing it in the car engine and sparking it up.

Wilmur sat against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Daryl work on the engine. He knew how to work a car engine. Philip had taught him how to do it when he was eight-years-old. Philip had often brought him to work to help work on engines. It made Wilmur feel proud that he could do what most kids couldn't do. But now, any kid could work an engine compared to surviving in a world filled with zombies.

Suddenly and randomly, Daryl said to Bob, "You never told us about the group you were with before."

Wilmur looked at Bob as he shrugged. "Which one?"

There had been two groups Bob was with before he ran across Glenn, Daryl, and Wilmur on the road a week or so ago. They asked him the questions and brought him back. He said he had two groups and they both died out, but he never actually told them about them. Wilmur knew it was hard for Bob to lose two entire groups. He didn't understand because he's never been with a group until now, but he knew it'd hurt to lose one.

Daryl shrugged at Bob's question and continued working on the car engine.

"You know, when you both found me out on that road, I almost kept walking." Bob mentioned.

"Why?" Wilmur asked.

" 'Cause I was done being a witness. Two times, two different groups. I was the last one standing. Like I was supposed to see it happen over and over, like it's some kind of curse." Bob said, smoking his own cigarrate.

"It must've been so hard for you." Wilmur said, arms still crossed.

Bob nodded. "It was. It's one of the hardest things I've ever been through. But, when it's just you out there with the quiet...used to be I'd drink a bottle of anything just so I could shut my eyes at night."

Bob had a harder time than Wilmur. He lost two whole groups and Wilmur hasn't lost a single person except Andrea and his sister. He lost no one else. He's never even really been outside before the prison, but he knew what it was like. He was out with his father before they ran across Woodbury for one or two months. As soon as he went into Woodbury, he never really stepped out until they went to attack the prison. He's been out some before that, but not much. Then he went to the prison and stayed in for awhile, but started going out for runs and learned lot's of experience.

"Figured the prison," Bob continued. "The people, thought it'd be easier. The run to the big spot, I did it for me."

"You gotta keep busy." Daryl replied, picking up a carton of water and drinking it.

"No." Bob said. "I did it so I could get me a bottle...of anything. I picked it up, I held it in my hand, but I put it down. I put it down so hard it took the whole damn shelf with it. That's what brought on the walkers, and that's what got Zach killed"

Wilmur sighed quietly, thinking of how it must be like to be outside all alone, by yourself. You'd have to survive winter, walkers, and terrible people all by yourself. Wilmur wouldn't be surprised if he started drinking himself. And it's what Bob did on the run a couple days ago. He resisted the bottle, but it got Zach killed. But it wasn't his fault. None of it was.

"It isn't your fault." Wilmur reassured. "Sometimes, you do things that does cause people to get killed, but it doesn't mean you did it. The thing you did is what did it. It happens all the time."

Bob bowed his head, letting his eyes rest from the bright sun before opening them again.

Daryl removed his hands from the engine and looked at Bob. "Why don't ya get in there and try the engine? It's a red and green wire. Go on. It ain't rocket science."

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his adoptive father while Bob walked behind the car. He gave his head a shake and followed Bob but not before stopping at Daryl. "Not helping."

"What?" Daryl shrugged.

"Think about it. Bob lost two whole groups. That's why he did it."

Daryl sighed and shook his head, continuing to work on the engine. "Why don't ya help Bob, too? Give it some gas."

Wilmur sighed deeply, following after Bob and taking the green wire while he took the other, sparking each of them together to make the engine start. They both smiled when they heard it rumble, giving each other a high five. Daryl whistled to call Michonne and Tyreese over before shutting the hoodie.

The young teen climbed in the back, pulling out the same rock and knife and began sharpening and shaping it again. Daryl, Michonne, and Tyreese climbed in the car and drove off into the distance.

After an hour or an hour in a half, they arrive at the city the college is present in. Tyreese and Bob is the first ones to step out of the car while Wilmur is the last. He stuffed the rock and knife back into his pocket and stepped out of the car, walking beside Bob.

They circle around a few buildings and pass a stopped train before passing a fancy building covered in green leafs and bacteria. He hoped they were getting closer and closer. They were in the city, but it could still be far out. Honestly, he doesn't know where they're going. All he knew is they were heading to a college with everything they need.

Wilmur held his gun up as he walked beside Bob, pointing it around the bacteria where walkers hang around the most. But surprisingly, no walkers were there. He lowered his gun and jogged back up to the group.

"Looks like we're getting closer." Daryl said.

"The building we want is just uh ahead." Tyreese replied.

Even Tyreese's voice got on Wilmur's nerves. His voice is what insulted him and Carl. His thoughts is what told him to insult, and his one eye expressed the rage he had toward him and Carl. Everything about Tyreese made him sick.

But what relieved him was the building wasn't too far out. They were almost there. Now all they had to do was to step in the college, get the medicine, and get out. Then they'll be back at the prison in time to give the medicine to the poor sick people. And then everything can go back to normal.

The only thing Wilmur would change was Carl's work hours. He didn't want him to exhaust himself everyday. Nor hurt himself. Carl wasn't a farmer, he was a strong boy who needed a challenge. He wasn't one of the weak people. He was too strong to be weak. If he could talk calmly to Rick about it, he might change it.

"This way." Tyreese said as the rest followed him onto a certain road with no walkers. An army must've came in a while ago and gotten rid of the walkers.

Tyreese led them to the college within five minutes. As soon as they were in front of the doors, all of them held their weapons up, pointing toward the door that'll lead them into the veterinary college. The college was a big enough place for people and walkers. The medicine might not even be there anymore even though it's a place where people would never think to look. Someone could've came in and took them. But they had to try and look. For the sick people, they had to try.

Daryl groaned and opened the door quietly, careful not to make any noise to attract anyone or anything.

"Let's go." Daryl whispered, stepping into the college with everyone else following along.

The college was fancy and dirty with clean papers laying everywhere. No blood could be seen yet, nor dead bodies. But that couldn't be good. It meant someone had been there before. If they don't run across any dead bodies in one minute, they're out of luck.

The five stepped out of the learning resource center and entered a new area in the college. They head up a floor and walk into each room, checking and making sure there's no medicine in it. They needed all the medicine they needed. Even the ones that won't help the illness in the prison. If a pill can save a life, they'll take it.

Him, Daryl, and Bob walked into a room filled with supplies, but no medicine. Almost every room in the college had tons of supplies, but none that they needed. The more the floors they headed up on, the more of the unneeded supplies grew. Each floor and every room had ridiculous amount of stupid supplies. None of which that contained medicine.

Wilmur almost gave up until they went to the floor that was the second to the top. As soon as they walked into the fourth room of the floor, relief filled their breaths.

"Alright, let's make this quick." Daryl said quietly.

Almost every desk had medicine placed on it. Wilmur had already picked up six bottles of pills. Each of them he remembered that were given to his little sister. The seventh one was a bottle of blue liquid. The liquid medicine that was given to Penny. He could remember how better it made her feel. Relief filled her body right after she took all the medicine and fluids.

The medicine made her get better day by day. When she recovered, she was completely weak due to her body used to being so sick for so long. It took her a while for her to walk again. She needed to eat really healthy for eight weeks after she finally recovered.

Luckily, for the sick people at the prison, they had incredibly healthy food. They would be completely recovered in no time.

"Anything ending with -cillian or -cin, C-I-N, grab it." Bob said.

Wilmur looked in his bag, making sure everything he grabbed was right, and it was. He was grabbing some extra medicine for the recovery after they're sick. In the aftermath, weakness can be terrible. The pills he's grabbing should help them stay stronger.

"You might want to grab some Bndrill or ifyprohen, too. After my sister recovered, she was really weak. The Bndrill and ifyprohen should help keep them stronger."

Bob nodded. "All right, if you see Bndrill or ifyprohen, grab it, too. We'll dissolve the pills and liquids in the IVs, put 'em right into the bloodstream. Dosage will be tricky but considering the time we lost..."

Wilmur grabbed each type of medicine Bob told him to grab, throwing it in his bag before heading over to Daryl and Tyreese.

"How'd you do?" Bob asked.

"Bags, tubes, clamps, connecters." Tyreese responded. "Everything on the list."

"What about y'all?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur nodded. "Yep. We got everything we need."

Wilmur threw the bag over his shoulder before pulling his gun back out of his holster and holding it up.

"All right, let's roll." Daryl said, pulling his crossbow off his shoulder and throwing his medicine bag over it.

The four of them followed Daryl out of the room, going back down a few floors with Daryl and Bob clicking on the flashlight. They headed down a dark hallway with papers lying everywhere. However, papers weren't the only thing in the hallway.

Daryl shined the flashlight through the small, broken window that showed the other room. A walker walked out from behind the curtain, it's snarls growing louder seeing that it wasn't alone.

The five of them quickly ran out of the hallway quietly. They walk into another dark room with a busted door they could've used to leave the building. Wilmur stayed beside Michonne while Daryl stayed beside Bob.

"Hey," Bob said. "Door's busted."

"Hold up." Daryl said, running to Bob to help with the busted door.

Wilmur flinched and clicked the safety off his gun when he heard something crash. Walker snarls could be heard nearby, and they were getting closer and closer. Their footsteps were growing louder and louder with each sloppy step on their clumsy feet. He pointed the gun toward the door the walkers could be pouring in any second.

Michonne shined her flashlight on the stairwell sign. "There."

As soon as they took a step toward it, a walker jumped on Tyreese. He slammed it against the wall and stabbed it, letting it fall to the ground to make a loud, crashing sound.

They ignored the crashing sound and walked to the locked stairwell door. As soon as Michonne placed her hand on the lock, a walker's hand sunk through the crack on the door. Wilmur pointed his gun toward the walker's hand, clicking the safety off again.

"How many?" Wilmur asked.

"Can't tell." Michonne responded.

Suddenly, more walkers at the other door start pouring in. The moaning and snarling grew louder as if a TV's volume was turned up to one hundred percent. They couldn't take on this many walkers! If they got overunned, who would take the medicine back the prison? They've gone too far for them to die now.

Wilmur's promised to make it back to Carl! He's broken one too many promises now! He has to get back! Get back to Carl!

"We can take 'em." Tyreese said.

"No!" Bob yelled. "They're infected! Same as the prison! We fire at 'em, get their blood on us, breathe it in! We didn't come all this way to get sick!"

Tyreese growled. "How do we know the ones in there aren't any different?!"

"We don't." Michonne responded, pushing against the door to keep the other walkers from coming in.

"Well, it's gotta change sometime." Daryl said, pushing against the door along with Michonne.

Everyone pulled out their weapons and pointed it toward the walkers, glaring at them. Each and every one of them stepped closer and closer to them. The amount of walkers in the room grew. It was being overunned.

"Ready?" Daryl said.

Wilmur nodded, holding his gun up. Daryl removed the chain from the doorknobs and swung it open. Wilmur is the first one to make the walker kill. Then Bob. Then Michonne. After the walkers in front of them are killed, they run out of the overunned room with the walkers chasing them.

They ran up the stairs quickly, Daryl shoving Wilmur forward in effort to make him run faster.

As soon as they're upstairs, walkers immiedently cross them again. Wilmur stabbed two of them and knocked on of them to the floor. He quickly followed Daryl and Michonne to the exit, killing two more walkers. Bob and Tyreese followed from behind him, killing the walkers to protect him, Daryl, and Michonne.

Michonne tried to open the next stairwell door, but she couldn't. There was no exit.

"Don't have an exit." Michonne said.

"Then we make one!" Daryl yelled, jumping on an extra wall that led to a big window.

Wilmur quickly backed up behind Michonne as soon as he saw Tyreese pick up something heavy enough to shatter a window to pieces.

"Get down!" Tyreese yelled, throwing it against the window, shattering it.

Michonne was the first one to make it out of the building. Wilmur and Bob were killing the walkers to protect Tyreese and Daryl. Blood was spewing all over them with each stab in the head. A walker jumped on Bob and slammed him against the wall. If Wilmur didn't kill it in time, Bob would've already been bit.

Bob smashed a walker's head right over Wilmur's shoulder, causing blood to spew all over Wilmur's right ear, cheek, and side of the hair. He killed another walker that nearly jumped on Tyreese. He shoved it off him and slammed it against a brick.

"C'mon!" Daryl yelled to Wilmur as he quickly rushed over to him.

Wilmur took Daryl's hand and allowed himself to be lifted up. "Jump over to the walkway!"

Wilmur obeyed and jumped out of the window with Michonne catching him on the other side. He held his gun up to the window as Daryl, Tyreese, and Bob jumped out.

Bob ended up landing at the edge of the walkway, his bag tipping over the edge. Walkers below them grabbed the bag filled with medicine and tried to pull it down, but Bob fought against them.

"Bob, let the bag go!" Wilmur yelled, pulling against Bob. If he didn't let the bag go, the walkers would not only drag the bag down, but Bob as well.

"Let it go, man!" Tyreese growled, trying to pull against Bob along with Wilmur. "Just let it go!"

"Let go of the bag, man!" Daryl yelled. He was sick of losing people. They've already lost Zach, countless people in the prison, and now they were going to lose Bob. The newcomer who just came in and immiedently became their friend.

However, Bob managed to yank the bag away from the walkers. He threw it back on the walkway and panted. Wilmur looked down at the bag. It didn't sound like medicine was in it. When it landed against the walkway, something broke, and it definitely wasn't a bottle of pills.

Wilmur narrowed his eyes when he saw a bottle of beer laying against the bag. He scoffed and looked at Bob, shaking his head. It still wasn't his fault when Zach died, but now he went in there for medicine and chose beer over medicine. That was completely his choice and his fault this time.

Daryl picked up the beer bottle, scoffing. "Got no meds in your bag? Just this?"

Bob didn't answer. He looked at the ground shamefully.

"You should've kept walking that day." Daryl said coldly before attempting to throw the beer bottle across the air.

"Don't." Bob warned, his hand placed on the gun in his holster.

Wilmur shook his head, placing a hand on his gun in his holster. If he shot Daryl, he would have no choice but to shoot him. Daryl was his new father. The good father one unlike his real one. And he will protect him, even if that meant killing Bob.

Oh no.

Wilmur was mad at Bob, but they couldn't be fighting right now. They had to get the medicine back to the people. If they didn't, everyone will be dead by the time they get back. Fighting is the least thing they need.

"Daryl, please." Wilmur said, trying to back him out of the fight.

Daryl didn't listen, instead he took the gun out of Bob's holster and got in his face again, threatening him. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, growling in his face.

"Just let it go, Daryl." Tyreese warned.

"Why would you care?" Wilmur blurted out coldly, but everyone ignored him. "The man's made his choice. Nothing you can do about it. Just gotta let it go."

Daryl listened and let go of Bob, glaring in his face. Bob didn't care about saving the people in the prison. He didn't care about giving them medicine or helping them in any way. He just wanted some drink. And it angered Daryl that he didn't care.

It angered everyone, but they had to be calm about it. What's done is done and there's nothing they can do about it.

"I didn't want to hurt anybody." Bob whined. "It was just for when it gets quiet."

Daryl growled, smashing the beer bottle against Bob's chest. "You take one sip. When those meds get in our people, I will beat your ass into the ground. You hear me?"

Bob whimpered as Daryl yanked away. He walked back over to his son and picked up his crossbow, walking off the walkway with everyone following behind. Wilmur looked back at Bob and shook his head before following after Daryl.

"Why are we going after more medicine? I already have some." Wilmur said to Daryl.

Daryl sighed deeply. "I know, but it isn't enough. Not for everyone."

Wilmur sighed, climbing in the back and putting the bag of medicine in the floor and crossing his arms. They had a long way to go. Whether the next place they'll be traveling is far away or not. They had to get more medicine. Luckily, it wasn't even sunset yet. They could make it to the place and back just in time.

Twenty minutes later, Michonne and Tyreese get in the car.

"Taking highway 100." Tyreese said.

Daryl grumbled. "I heard."

"Isn't that 7 hours away?" Wilmur asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Yep." Tyreese replied, getting in the car.

Wilmur sighed and leaned back in his seat. Will they really be able to make it back in time then? They're low on gas, they have to drive 7 hours there, and they have to drive 7 hours back. Include the trouble they'll run across.

If Bob actually got medicine, they could be on their way back right now.

But they don't have it, and by the time they get back, everyone in the prison can have it.

Including his lover, who he fought so hard to protect. If Carl has it when they get back, he'll do the same exact thing Daryl threatened to Bob if he took a sip of the beer.

He'll beat the shit out of him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Bright Rocks

The heat in the car was unbearing. Bright sunlight was shining through the car window. The seats were steaming hot and there was no air conditioner that worked. The car was cramped and tight. Everyone was sweating and exhaustion was taking over their eyes.

Wilmur's fingers shook as he scraped the sparkling rock he was making for Carl. He was almost done with it. All he needed to do was shape the let side and then he'd be done.

Accidently, his trembling hands dropped the rock to the car floor. Wilmur sighed with frustration as he bent down to pick the rock up with his trembling, weak fingers.

"You all right?" Michonne asked, her brown eyes showing concern.

Wilmur sighed and rubbed his warm forehead. "Yeah."

The thing was is he was all right, but he didn't feel right. He felt warmer than normal, his fingers felt weak, his hands were trembling, and he felt more tired than usual.

Wilmur ignored the weakness and tried to continue working on the rock for Carl. But eventually, he had to put it away due to the weakness of his fingers and the shaking of his hands. His fingers couldn't hold anything, nor could they sit still. The heat felt like it was growing hotter and hotter every steaming minute. More sweat dripped down Wilmur's cheeks as the heat grew stronger.

"Daryl, are you sure the air conditioner doesn't work?" Wilmur asked, taking off his blue overshirt and leaving his white, sweaty t-shirt on.

Daryl looked back at him, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. "You sure you're okay?"

Wilmur nodded, grabbing a water bottle from his bag and drinking it down fast until there's not even a single drop of water left. He threw the empty water bottle in the floor and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

"Okay, Wilmur. There's something obviously wrong." Michonne said.

"I'm fine." Wilmur denied. "Just thirsty and tired. That's all."

Michonne narrowed her eyes, unsure if Wilmur was telling the truth or not. He was too much of a good liar like the Governor. They were both always successful with lying.

"I'm fine." Wilmur repeated when Michonne narrowed her eyes.

Instead of arguing, she let it go and leaned back in her seat, sighing. Wilmur did the same and grabbed another water bottle, drinking more than half of it down in less than twenty seconds. He threw the empty water bottle in the car floor and leaned against the steaming window, closing his eyes. But it didn't make him feel any better. It only made the exhaustion and weakness worse.

He placed his shaking hand against his sweating cheek and closed his tired eyes. He could hear Bob's beer bottle rolling around in his bag as well as every rock they run over on the road.

The next time he opened his eyes is when the engine turned off and a walker pounded on the car window.

"What'd are we doing?" Wilmur asked.

"There's a pharmacy store." Daryl replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. "We're gonna check out what's in there."

The young teen pulled his gun out of his holster with shaky hands as he opened the car door. He held it up toward the pharmacy store and walked toward it alongside with Bob.

"Can you keep an eye on him for me?" Daryl asked, his eyes following Bob around.

Wilmur nodded. "Y-yeah. I guess so."

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Before he could answer, Michonne called for Daryl. Daryl sighed and looked at his adoptive son. "Look, I'll talk to ya 'bout it later, okay?"

"Yeah." Wilmur nodded before watching Daryl walk in one side of the pharmacy store while him and Bob walked in the other side. Before he stepped his foot in the pharmacy store, he turned to Bob. "Listen, you can't take any liquor, Bob. We came out here for medicine, not liquor."

"It's just for when it's quiet." Bob defended.

"It will get quiet if you don't get medicine." Wilmur argued. "This time, you're gonna get some. I'll make sure you do."

Bob bowed his head shamefully as he followed the young teen in the pharmacy store. Bob noticed Wilmur was walking a bit weird. He was a bit more slow, his feet were dragging against the floor, and his legs were trembling. And it only got worse when they stepped into the dark store.

Darkness overcame them as soon as they stepped into the store. It's window shills were closed, blocking any sunlight from shining in. The lights nor fans worked at all. Bob clicked on a bright flashlight and handed it to Wilmur. The two followed the flashlight light around until it eventually brought them to the medicine section. Dozens of bottles of pills laid on the shelves. None of it is what they needed, but it had to be enough to at least help.

Wilmur let out a dry cough before starting to grab all the medicine they would most likely use. Another dry cough slipped out of his throat before several little, quiet ones.

He leaned against one of the shelves and placed his palm over his warm forehead, rubbing it. He felt a little lightheaded and warm. It was probably just exhaustion, but he knew that wasn't true.

"Would this work?" Bob's voice echo's in Wilmur's ear.

Wilmur opened his eyes and weakly shined the flashlight against the bottle of pills. It was a type of medicine that would knock you out and work on the pain in your body. He remembered how his mother gave it to him when he had the stomach bug.

He could remember the exact pill laying on his dresser beside his lamp with his mother sitting on the bed beside him, tucking him in. The pill was always able to knock him out and by the time he would open his eyes, no pain would be left except aches.

"Yeah." Wilmur replied while coughing, taking the pill bottle and putting it in his brown bag. "Just-just grab everything you think-think will help."

Bob sighed as Wilmur's glowing, blue eyes followed him. There was a few beer bottles in the refrigerators and Bob was tempted to grab them, but Wilmur and himself told him not to grab them.

Bob walked to another shelf area with Wilmur following from behind. While Bob took a few bags of cough drops, Wilmur was grabbing bottles of pills until a walker's grip tightened around his wrist as soon as he placed his trembling hand against one of the bottles of pills.

The walker growled and yanked Wilmur forward, causing him to slam against the shelf hard. Bottles of pills collapsed to the white, dirty floor. Wilmur desperately tried to reach for his knife, but his fingers were too weak to get a firm grip on it. The knife clattered to the floor as he reached for his other knife, but the walker yanked him against the shelf again. This time, causing the shelf to collapse.

Wilmur fell along with it, landing right beside the walker who attacked him. Daryl, Michonne, and Tyreese were in his shelf area in a split second. Daryl quickly shot a bow through the walker's head, but another walker jumped on Wilmur while a walker jumped on Daryl and Michonne.

Tyreese quickly shoved the walker off them and slammed it against the fallen shelf before smashing his hammer into the walker's skull. The skull crackled against the air as blood sprayed on Tyreese's cheeks.

Meanwhile, Wilmur was fighting off his own walker. His hands were acting weak against it. His fingers were too weak to hold his knife correctly and his hands were trembling too much to push the walker away.

Daryl and Michonne quickly rushed Wilmur, but walkers jumped on both of them. Three walkers jumped on Tyreese but he shoved all thre of them off at the same time. A fourth one jumped on his back, but he shoved it against the other shelf and knocked both of them down.

Somehow, Wilmur managed to kick the walker off him with his trembling legs. He quickly scrambled for his knife as the walker grabbed his foot. He kicked it in the face before reaching for his knife. The walker growled and knocked him back to the floor, climbing on top of him.

The walker growled in Wilmur's face, it's teeth just inches away from him. He placed his fingers against the walker's throat and squeezed it until blood spewed out of it's mouth and splattered on his cheeks. He then managed to kick it off again and smash his knife in the walker's brain, killing it.

He sighed with relief and weakly pushed himself off the floor, picking up his knife. He turned to Daryl a threw his knife across the air, the knife landing right in the walker's skull. Wilmur pulled the knife out while Daryl shot a bow at the walker on Michonne.

She nodded to Daryl, thanking him while Tyreese was growling and killing one last walker.

"Where's Bob?" Tyreese asked, growling while pulling his hammer out of the walker's skull.

The four look around them to see know Bob in sight before Wilmur looked toward the refrigerators filled with all kinds of drinks. Including beer.

"He might be over there." Wilmur mentioned, pointing to the beer.

Daryl turned his head to see all the beer crowded in the fridge while some was clattered to the ground. Growls rippled out of his chest as he sprinted to them with everyone else following from behind. "Son of a bitch!"

They stopped sprinting as soon as they see Bob picking up a beer bottle from the floor and stuffing it in his bag. Daryl growled and rushed to Bob, yanking his bag out of his hands and pouring all the beer cans out of it before slamming him against the refrigerator, breaking the glass.

Daryl leaned close in Bob's face, growling. "I thought I told you if you took even a sip of the liquor, I'd beat your ass to the ground."

"You said if I took a sip. Not a bottle." Bob defended.

"Just forget about it." Wilmur warned his adoptive father. "We have to move fast."

Daryl growled and glared in Bob's eyes one last time before yanking his fist away from the collar of Bob's shirt. He picked up Bob's bag and threw medicine he poured out of it back into it before throwing it over his shoulder.

Daryl glared at Bob. "After this, we're not brinin' you on any more runs. I don't even think you should be in the prison anymore."

"Please." Bob begged.

"No!" Daryl snapped. "If you're choosing liquor over the medicine we need, you shouldn't be there. When we get back, you're packing your bags and then you're gone!"

Bob shook his head, tears filling his eyes. "Please, don't. You'd be the third group I lose."

Daryl leaned in his face, growling. "You're not a part of our group."

Tears dripped down Bob's cheeks as Daryl pushed him back. He took away his knives and gave it to Wilmur for safekeeping before picking up his crossbow and draping it over his shoulder. He gave Bob one last glare before scoffing and storming out of the store.

Bob looked at Wilmur with tear streaks left on his cheeks. Wilmur shook his head, stumbling out of the store with Michonne and Tyreese following from behind. He put Bob's knives in his belt where he stored his other knives before climbing in the backseat and closing his droopy eyes.

Bob came a few minutes later and joined the backseats, bowing his head shamefully. He eyed Wilmur as he slept. Coughs were slipping out of mouth along with a little bit of blood.

All Bob could do was hope Wilmur didn't have the illness.

"Carl?"

The young teen flinched and quickly rushed down the hallway. His father was back from the supply food run he went on with Carol.

"Carl!" He heard his father again.

Before he ran to his dad, he checked on Beth and Judith. If Hershel was there, he would've checked on him, too. But he wasn't. He left after he and Carl came back from outside the prison. He knew where he went though.

Like his father said, they all had jobs to do. And Hershel's job was to help the sick people until the run team was back.

"Carl!"

The young teen quickly sprinted to the end of the hallway to see his father standing at the other end with two big bags in his hands. One of them was like a trash bag while the other was a camping bag with an orange streak on it. "You okay?"

Rick took a few steps away to distance himself with his son so he wouldn't expose him. "I was gonna ask you that."

Carl walked forward a little bit. "We're fine."

"No ones sick? You didn't have to do anything?"

"Haven't had to use my gun, Dad."

Rick nodded with relief. "And Judith?"

"She's with Beth."

"Good." Rick replied, setting one of the two full bags on the floor and sliding it over to Carl. "Found some food on the run. There's a bunch of fruit leather in there. Have everybody brush their teeth after."

Carl picked up the heavy, black bag with the orange stripe against it before throwing it over his slender shoulder. "Can we come out soon?"

Rick shook his head. "Not just yet."

"Dad," Carl began, stopping his father from walking out of the administration building. "I was around you when you were in the middle of it. And I was around Patrick."

Carl couldn't help but pause at his ex-friend's name. Every time he thought of Patrick, images of the desperate teenager pushing him against the wall flooded his mind.

He couldn't help but wonder what Patrick would be doing if he was still alive. Would he be locked up in cellblock A along with the other sick people or would he be with the other exposed people?

If he was still alive, Wilmur would most likely be keeping an eye on him instead of going on the run with Daryl. Carl and Wilmur would end up sleeping with an one eye open.

He shoved the images away and focused on the present. "I didn't get it. I can help you."

"Thanks, but I need you to stay here." Rick rejected the offer, attempting to walk out of the building.

"I will." Carl responded, stopping his father from walking out of the building. "But...Dad, you can't keep me from it."

"From what?"

"...From what always happens."

"...Yeah, maybe. But I think it's my job to try." Rick ended the conversation, walking out of the administration building.

Carl sighed deeply, sitting the bag filled with food beside Beth's door, knocking on it to let her know there's food by the door before walking the hallways again.

Nothing but white, yellow, and pink fax papers covered the dirty floors of the hallways. Some of the papers recorded who was in the prison before the world went down. Stained blood speckled the papers. Broken glass frames hang from the walls. Some of the photos had families in it.

He ignored the pictures and kicked the fax papers away. He was bored of walking the hallways over and over again and making sure Beth and Judith were okay more than a hundred times. He wanted to help the sick people. He needed to. People are dying just after a few hours of having the illness. If he couldn't help the sick people or go on the run with Wilmur then what was he suppose to do?

Protecting everyone was his job, not patrolling the hallways. He had to protect his lover, his family, and everyone in the prison. He was sick and tired of letting everyone risk their lives everyday while he sits by and doesn't do anything.

Wilmur protected him! Rick protected him! Everyone in the prison protected him! They everyone always protected him then why couldn't he?

Carl promises as soon as Wilmur gets back he'll be the one to protect him and everyone.

Wilmur coughed like he had bronchitis, but he knew what was wrong. And he couldn't tell anybody. If he did, then they'd give him the medicine when it's meant for the sick people in the prison.

Blood spewed all over his arm as he coughed. He sighed and wiped it away with his blue overshirt. Another bloody cough slipped out of his throat before Bob spoke.

"Please, let me help. I can't just stand by." Bob begged.

"I can't stand by either." Wilmur responded, coughing. "But you're making me."

Bob furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "If you don't have to, then why aren't you following Daryl?"

Wilmur coughed, crossing his arms. "I know I don't have to be here. But thanks to you, I am. You chose something we don't need over saving a loved one's life. Then you did it again, and again. And now we can't trust you to be on you're own, so we had to do the only thing we could do to keep you from doing it again. So no, I don't have to be here. But you're making me."

Bob sighed and leaned against the car, looking up ahead to where Daryl went. Everyone besides him and Wilmur went to check out a small town filled with stores. Wilmur was told to stay behind and look after Bob.

"Are you really gonna do it?" Bob asked.

"Do what?" Wilmur asked, coughing.

"Kick me out." Bob responded.

Wilmur shrugged, placing his sweaty hand over his warm forehead to make sure it hasn't gotten any warmer before dragging away. "It's not up to me, but Daryl's right. We can't afford to have people who would choose something we don't need over saving someone you love. Like the person who killed Karen and David."

Someone like Carol who would kill two of their own for their own good. She's been like that ever since with the war with the Governor ended. He understood they needed to be strong, but she killed two of their own just to save herself. If she was really the one who killed Karen and David, she didn't need to be in the prison.

If they ended up outside the prison because the illness wiped out everybody and it was just him, Carl, Judith, Bob, and Carol. He wouldn't want to have Bob and Carol near them. Bob would end up choosing something over Carl and Judith while Carol would do anything for her own good.

"The liquor was just for when it's quiet." Bob defended.

"It doesn't sound quiet to me." Wilmur coughed. "People are still alive and fighting for their lives. People are going out for medicine to help people. That doesn't sound quiet. Yet, what do you do? You go find yourself some liquor anyway."

"I lost two groups." Bob defended again. "They helped me survive and then they all died. What if I lost this group?"

"It doesn't whether you lose someone or not." Wilmur said, coughing out a little bit of blood on his arm. "You still chose liquor over us. You chose liquor over them. And you don't know if you'll lose us. If you choose us over your beer then we will live."

Bob shook his head. "Look what's happening to us. An illness is wiping out everyone in the prison. You even have it."

Wilmur coughed, looking at Bob with a confused look.

How does he-

"When you fell asleep, some blood came out of your mouth. You're also coughing a lot. You've been acting like the people do in the prison when they're sick."

Wilmur sighed, coughing out more blood. "Don't tell."

"I won't." Bob replied, picking up the bag filled with medicine. "But you need to take some medicine."

"N-n-" Wilmur is cut off by harsh coughing.

Blood poured out of his mouth as he coughed. His breath was taken away as blood pushed in and out of his lungs. He collapsed to the branches covering the dirt on the ground. Blood poured all over the branches and grass, glowing crimson red. The coughs grew harsher and harsher until he laying completely on the ground.

Bob's arms were around Wilmur's smaller form as he coughed out crimson blood. He tried to pull him back up, but Wilmur's harsh coughing made it hard for him. Bob quickly rushed to the medicine bag and pulled out a bottle filled with blue liquid before rushing back to the young teen.

Just as he was about to unscrew the lid, Wilmur slapped the bottle out of his hand, desperately trying to say no but his coughs interrupted. More blood spilled out of his mouth as the coughs grew worse.

"Hang on, Wilmur." Bob said, pulling out his water bottle and placing it in his mouth to calm him down.

Wilmur accepted the water bottle, but he didn't accept any other medicine and Bob wondered why. Did he want to die? He couldn't because he just gave Bob a lecture.

Blood flooded out of Wilmur's throat and poured out of his mouth like how you pour water into a glass cup. He felt like his blood was acting like a soda can when you shake it up and then open it up; explodes.

Slowly, his vision started fading to black as he heard Bob's yelling voice echoing in his ears. A water bottle was in his mouth and hands were around his cheeks. He felt something push down his throat. Like a pill or something like that.

Wilmur immiedently shoved the water bottle out of his mouth as soon as the pill was swallowed. The water spilled in the blood puddle Wilmur had left. It soaked into Wilmur's white shirt and skin. He was suddenly pulled out of the bloody mess and put against the car.

Another water bottle is placed in his mouth and another pill is swallowed. He coughed against the water bottle but accepted it instead of shoving it away. The water soaked the blood in and shoved it back down. His bloody coughs slowly disappeared along with the fading vision.

His vision and breath was much more clear. His breath was hitched, but it was enough for him to be able to breathe. In front of his eyes was Bob. Looking at him, petrified. He coughed and picked up his blue overshirt, wiping off his mouth before weakly pushing himself off the ground.

"Take it easy." Bob said, trying to push him back down but Wilmur ignored him.

He trembled as he pushed himself off the branchy ground, wrapping his arms around himself before coughing and panting. Pounds of sweat were dripping down his cheeks and temples. His legs were threatening to give out. If it wasn't for the car beside him, he would've face planted the ground.

"Why don't you rest?" Bob said.

Wilmur shook his head, leaning against the car to keep himself held up. He rested his bright red cheek against his hand and closed his eyes. The illness surely didn't feel good. Penny must've been in a lot of pain when she had it. He remembered how much she cried when she had it. If they didn't hospitalize her in time, she would've lost her life.

Yet, Wilmur didn't care if he would lose his life to the illness or not if it was over protecting everyone. It was why he couldn't take any medicine. If he did, there was would less for the people at the prison. Yeah, not many people had the illness when they left but it spreaded fast. By the time they get back, hundreds of people could have it.

"You should at least take some medicine." Bob mentioned.

"Just stop!" Wilmur snapped in frustration, collapsing to the branchy ground. Bob attempted to help him up, but decided against it and let Wilmur pick himself up.

A little bit of blood spilled from Wilmur's mouth as he pushed himself back up. It wasn't much, but his body has already lost enough blood. His body was a bit too warm and his coughs were so harsh that pounds of blood could suddenly spray out of his throat any second.

"Not until you rest." Bob replied.

Wilmur sighed in frustration and walked to a tree with an orange flag on it and slid down the bark before meeting the ground. His arms were wrapped around his cramping stomach as he closed his sleepy eyes.

He pictured his lover's smiling face to make him feel better. He pictured his beautiful, blue sparkling eyes. His smile was smiling one of the most gorgeous smiles he's ever seen in his entire life. His lips were glowing rosier and somehow softer. He was smiling and laughing on sparkling river rocks nearby a rushing river.

Every time Wilmur got stressed or upset, he'd picture his beautiful lover and he'd feel better.

"Wilmur?" Michonne's voice snapped him out of his lover's imagination.

He opened his droopy eyes to see Michonne bending in his vision with Daryl and Tyreese standing beside the car in the background while Bob was in the car.

"B-back already?" Wilmur smirked, coughing out a little bit of blood.

"There wasn't much." Michonne shrugged, staring at him with concern. "Anyway, Bob told us what happened."

Wilmur shrugged, coughing and panting. His coughing sounded like bronchitis and his pants sounded like a dog's. He was sweating like he just came out of the world's most longest race.

Michonne pulled a bottle out of her bag and poured two pills in her palm before handing him a water bottle. "Here, take this. It should help in a few minutes."

The young teen shook his head and pushed her hand away. He did, however, accept the half way gone water bottle and drank it all in just ten seconds.

"Wilmur, you have to take some medicine."

He shook his head, coughing. "The medicine is for the sick people in the prison."

"But you are one of the sick people in the prison." Michonne argued.

He shook his head again before coughing. "I don't come first. The people I care about do. I'm not gonna take some medicine and risk someone's life in the prison."

"You're risking your life." Michonne mentioned.

"I don't care." Wilmur replied with frustration, coughing harshly. "We all got jobs to do, but everyone's job is to protect each other. Which means I have to protect everyone in the prison. If I took even one pill, it would risk someone's life because the pill is for someone else. Not me."

"What about Carl?" Michonne asked. "What if he was sick? Wouldn't you want him to take medicine."

Wilmur coughed out a little bit of blood. "Of course I would. That's-that's different. Carl is one of the people I have to protect. If he was sick and I took a pill, it could risk his life 'cause that pill could be for him."

If Carl really was sick, Wilmur would definitely not risk any medicine. If he took a pill and it risked Carl's life and he ended up dying...Wilmur wouldn't be able to live with himself. If he ever lost Carl...

"Then he would feel the same about you." Michonne argued.

"I don't care." Wilmur replied, still coughing. "I'm not doing anything to put his life or anyone's life at risk. If it would put Carl's life at risk then it would put everyone else's life at risk. That's why I can't take any medicine. I have to protect them."

Michonne softened her brown eyes. "I understand." And she did understand. There was times where she tried to hard to protect her loved ones, but they died in the end. Like Andrea. "But you're going to rest for the entire run."

Wilmur grunted in frustration as Michonne helped him up. She guided him to the car and helped him get in the backseat. They laid a blanket and towel down for him for him to keep warm and to stop the blood from landing all over him.

It was going to be a long, bloody ride.

A loud gunshot ringed in Carl's ear as it filled the echoing air. It knocked down some of the picture frames and vibrated the entire administration building. He could hear Judith immiedently start to cry right after the bullet was fired.

Carl quickly rushed to Beth's room as more bullets were fired into the night crisp air. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah." Beth replied. "The gunshot just gave Judith a fright."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about us."

Another bullet is fired, making Judith scream and cry out to Beth in fear. He could hear some of the things in their room fall, but he didn't worry about it. He knew they were okay.

He quickly rushed back down the hallway and stopped at a dusty window. He cleared the dust out of the way and stared out of it to see nothing but the prison, the bright, full moon, and the shining stars. Screams and panicking could be heard.

He wondered if Wilmur and the run team was back from their run yet, but considering gunshots could be heard, they probably weren't since someone most likely someone who had the sickness died an came back like Patrick. Lot's of people have probably already turned and attacked everybody. Hershel and Glenn were probably defending the people. He hoped they were and no one has gotten killed.

If he was in the prison, he could be helping defending everyone. He should be defending everybody. His job was to protect everyone and he couldn't do that if he was hiding away in the administration building. People were dying and panicking and he needed to help. Everyone did. You can't hide away from the dangers anymore. People need help and they can't save themselves.

His job was to protect everyone. Not roam the hallways or farm. None of that can save people, and the only way to save them is to protect them.

"Carl!" He heard his father's voice whisper loudly.

The young teen quickly sprinted down the hallway, pulling his gun out of his holster as his father called for him. He quickly checked on Beth and his baby sister one last time before running to the end of the hall where he met his father who had a flashlight in his hand.

"I heard gunshots." Carl said as soon as he reached the end of the hall.

Rick ignored the statement. "I need your help."

Proudly, he followed his father out of the trapping administration building. All along, he wanted to help and now he can, and he was glad to. He didn't want to stand by and watch as everyone dies.

Carl followed his father in the chilly fields of the prison. Up ahead, he could see walkers shoved up against a cluster of a fence, and it was threatening to give out. Luckily, half of it had logs pushed up against it to keep it from falling. But only half of it was covered, and it could collapse any second now.

Rick quickly rushed to the logs him and Maggie were cutting in the middle of the fields. "Maggie and I were cutting up logs to press it against the fences to keep the walkers from getting in. She went inside the prison to see what the gunshots were. I couldn't do this on my own. I needed my best worker."

Carl couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "What about Carol? She's really good at this stuff."

Rick ignored the question and continued cutting the logs up with his son helping. He'll tell him about what happened to Carol later but right now, they needed to get the logs to the fences as fast as they can.

"Dad, what about Carol?" Carl asked again.

Rick handed his son some logs for him to carry, looking at him with seriousness. "I'll tell you about her later. She's okay, but she did somethin'."

The young teen decided not to push it any further and helped his dad carry the heavy logs to the fences before hammering it to the rocky ground and pushing it against the fence.

The walkers were pushing harder against the gate now that they smelled flesh, but Rick and Carl ignored it. The more logs they hammer against the fence, the less chance the walkers get in. They weren't worried about the walkers being right by them. They were worried they'll bust in.

Carl hammered is fifth log into the ground and against the fence. "Think they're okay?"

"If things were going bad, we would've heard more shots. Maggie would've gotten us." Rick said while walking to another log and picking it up, getting ready to push it against the fence. "We have to do this."

Carl walked over to his father to help him with the heavy log. "Let's do it."

"I got it." Rick rejected the help but Carl ignored him.

"Let me help." Carl replied, helping him pick up the log and push it against the fence.

Rick smiled at his son as he helped him. His son was always willing to help whether someone liked it or not. Like when Wilmur didn't like how Carl worked too hard, but Carl didn't mind it no matter how exhausted he was. Wilmur was just scared for his son. He didn't want Carl hurting himself when he didn't need to. Rick doesn't want it either, and he promises to reduce his son's work hours so he can rest more and spend more time with Wilmur.

"All right, set it down." Rick said as soon as the tip of the log touched the fence.

Carl sat it down and smiled, but the smile disappeared from his lips as soon as one cluster of the fence gave out and broke the logs and fell down, letting every single walker slip in.

"Run!" Rick yelled at his son as he tried to stop the walkers from slipping in, but failed.

The young teen quickly took off running with his father stumbling from behind. He accidently stumbled too much and collapsed to the rocky ground with walkers coming up from right behind him.

Carl panicked and ran to help his dad up. He didn't care of he would get eaten by the walkers, he needed to save his father. "Dad, come on! Come on!"

Rick shoved his son ahead of him in order to protect him from the hungry beasts. He shoved him one of the prison's guard towers and slammed the door shut, locking it.

They quickly ran out of the other side and watched as the walkers shoved themselves up against the other weak fence. Their growls and snarls grew louder as soon as they saw the father and son.

If Wilmur and the run team were to come back right at the moment, they wouldn't be able to get in and give medicine to everybody because the walkers would be guarding the prison. By the time they would get rid of them, it'd be too late.

"Dad, what'd we do?" Carl asked his father as they stared at the walkers pushing against the weak fence.

"Maybe I could back the bus up against the fence." Rick replied with wishful thinking.

"Will it hold?" He asked his father.

Rick looked at his son, realizing there was no way to block the walkers from getting into the prison. When the walkers want something, they don't give up. And it can put them all in danger.

The father winced as he heard the fence rattle. "C'mon."

The father and son rush to the carts filled with rifles, shotguns, and machine guns. Rick picked up two of the machine guns and placed ammo in them while placing the other in his pocket and his son pocket just in case they run out. The two reload their guns before attempting to walk back to the fences where the walkers were.

"All right, listen to me." Rick said seriously, pointing at the gun to show him the parts Carl would be unfamiliar with. "Magazine goes in here. Release here. Make sure it latches. Pull back the operating rod and rounds feed up. Keep squeezing the trigger for rapid fire, okay?"

Rick turned to his son and stopped him from walking any further, looking at him with seriousness. "You shoot or you run. Don't let 'em get close, okay?"

Carl nodded before they ran to the fence. As soon as they got there, walkers broke down the fence and busted in. They growled louder as soon as they smelt Rick and Carl's flesh.

The father and son held up their guns and immiedently began squeezing the trigger, shooting every single walker down. Each walker growled and snarled louder and louder from the loud, rapid gunfire.

Gunshots were taken place outside the prison and inside the prison, making them more active. They were attracted by the gunfire in the prison, making them grow closer and closer to Rick and Carl.

"Back off." Rick yelled as they both backed away from the dangerous walkers.

They quickly reloaded their guns as they backed up before Rick knocked down a walker that was too close with his gun. It felt to the ground, but it didn't die when his soft head hit the hard concrete. Carl shot it before it before it could get back up and then looked to his father.

Noticing he had no ammo, he threw his dad some before continuing to send rapid bullets through their skulls. The more walkers they shot down, the more active they grew. They rushed to Rick and Carl faster, but they shot them down before they could even make another step.

Some of the walkers they didn't kill, but were able to knock to the ground and they couldn't get back up. They ignored the ones on the ground and shot rapid fire toward the walkers standing up until every single walker was dead.

Carl could still hear the faint snarls of the walkers, meaning they weren't dead. He headed toward the noise and killed it before moving on the next walker snarl, getting rid of it. Rick got rid of the last walker snarl as Carl watched him.

He stared at his father, grateful that he let him help. Who knows what would happen if Carl wasn't there? That's why Rick needed him there. If he wasn't there, the walkers would've busted in and made their way in the prison and kill everybody. That's why Carl has the job to help everybody. To protect them.

Suddenly, he can hear a car approaching. He turned his head to see a van pulling up to the gates. Wilmur was back and hopefully safe and sound.

Wilmur puked out blood all over the place in the car. He accidently puked blood all over Tyreese's purple shirt, but he didn't care. Instead of Tyreese lashing out at him like he did when he called him and Carl faggots, he helped get the blood calm down. He attempted giving him some medicine, but it didn't work. Wilmur refused to take any medicine of any kind.

It only got worse over the hours. Slowly, his nose, ears, and eyes started bleeding. His breath went hitch too many times, that he passed out from the lack of oxygen. He awoke again sometime later, but it was only worse. He could barely breathe, his sweat dripping like a waterfall, blood was pouring out everywhere like it was eternal bleeding, and his coughing went so harsh that it cut off his oxygen many times.

"You need medicine!" Tyreese snapped.

Wilmur shook his head, coughing insanely. Blood was pouring all over Tyreese, the car floor, the blanket, and the towel. Everything in the car was glowing crimson red. He squirmed around when Tyreese tried to feed him water. Instead of drinking it, he colored it crimson red with his blood. Tyreese grabbed the last water bottle and poured it all over Wilmur's face to cool him off.

"Let me get back there." Daryl said. "I can try to help."

Tyreese shook his head. "No, focus on giving directions."

"He's my son. I can take care of him." Daryl said seriously.

"Yeah, you can." Tyreese replied. "But no one can give directions except you. We need you in the front."

Daryl hesitated, but listened and focused on giving directions while his adoptive son puked blood all over Tyreese. He squirmed again under Tyreese's grip to get him to calm down. He needed medicine, but Wilmur was refusing to take any.

Bob shook his head as he watched Wilmur's blood spill everywhere. He quickly pulled his beer bottle out of his bag that he managed to sneak out of the college and handed it to Tyreese.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin'?!" Daryl yelled as soon as he saw Bob's beer bottle.

"It could help him." Bob replied. "The beer can calm him down."

Daryl shook his head. "Ain't no way ya givin' that shit to my son."

Blood sprayed all over the beer bottle as Wilmur squirmed. The blood was popping out like how soda explodes when you shake it. Nothing but blood was traced on Wilmur's face. His crystal blue eyes glowed against the crimson blood on his cheeks.

"Daryl, we have to try." Michonne said.

Daryl looked at his son as he squirmed and puked blood everywhere. If he was to keep it up, he'd lose too much blood and breath, and he'll end up dying. If the beer was worth a try, then it was worth of a try.

"All right." Daryl hesitated.

Tyreese softened his worried eyes and opened the lid, placing the bottle in Wilmur's bloody mouth. The beer shoved the blood down his lungs, cutting off Wilmur's oxygen. He coughed into the bottle and spewed blood all in it. He squirmed underneath the bottle and started yelping from the lack of oxygen.

"Stop! It's killing him!" Daryl yelled.

"Just give it a minute." Bob replied.

Wilmur screeched blood out and yelped a bit more, but as soon as the beer pushed the blood back into his veins, he calmed down. The blood completely stopped pouring from his mouth, eyes, ears, and nose. His rapid heart stopped beating so fast and slowed down to a normal rate.

"It worked." Tyreese smiled at Bob.

Bob smiled back. "You wanna know my secret?"

Everyone looked at him.

"I snuck some of the medicine in it." He whispered so Wilmur couldn't hear.

Everyone smiled at Bob. Even Daryl, who hated him. He saved his son. If Bob wasn't there, Wilmur would most likely die from the lack of breathing and lack of blood. But they still needed to get back to the prison fast so Wilmur can get taken Hershel. Who knows how long those fluids will last? He could easily start bleeding to death again.

Tyreese removed the bottle from Wilmur's mouth and threw it in the floor before letting Wilmur rest against the car window. He was shivering against the cool air. Tiny blood droplets were dripping from his mouth and his fingers, hands, and legs didn't tremble as much anymore. Now he was resting against the car window and eventually, he fell asleep peacefully.

Carl opened the gate for Daryl to pull in the prison. As soon as the gate was open, he sprinted to the car. As soon as he saw his lover's fallen form in the car, he jumped in and lifted him up.

He froze at the sight of his sick lover. Blood was dripping from his mouth, eyes, nose, and ears. Sweat was dripping from his cheeks, temples, and hair. His white t-shirt was covered in blood as well as his blanket and towel.

"Wilmur..." Carl whispered.

The older lover's eyes immiedently shot open as soon as he heard the younger lover's voice.

"C-Carl?"

The younger lover immiedently smashed his lips against Wilmur's bloody lips. He could taste his blood but the kiss was still sweeter than ever. Wilmur closed his eyes and held onto his lover's neck, letting the kiss deepen. It hasn't been long, but it's been forever since they had a special moment between each other.

Wilmur pulled away and traced his finger on Carl's cheek as he stared in his light blue eyes. "You okay? You didn't get sick? What about Judy?"

Carl smiled and nodded. "I'm fine. Judith is with Beth. You got sick though."

"Don't worry about me." Wilmur smiled.

Carl frowned. "Of course I'm gonna worry about you. It looks like you're really sick. Did you take any medicine when you got it? By the way, why did you get back so late?"

"I didn't take any medicine because I was saving it for everyone in the prison. But I'm okay. At least for now. Anyway, I'll expain why we got back late later, okay?"

The younger nodded and placed another gentle kiss on the older lover's lips before helping his trembling body out of the car. "We need to get you to Hershel."

"I'm fine." Wilmur declined.

"No, you're not." Carl said seriously before guiding him in the building and into cellblock A.

Piles of bodies laid in cellblock A. Blood was painted on the floor and walls. Some were eaten and some were dead from the sickness. Two children were sick with it, Glenn was half dead and so was Sasha.

It seemed like Wilmur missed a lot.

Wilmur laid on a bunker with fluids connecting him back together. Carl was sitting beside him, holding his hand and stroking it. His eyes saddened as he watched the fluids get into him. He had already drank his blue liquid and eaten three different pills. It completely stopped the bleeding, coughing, and sweating. He felt a lot better, especially now that he can rest with Carl.

The older lover smiled and stroked Carl's rosy cheeks. "Carl, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you."

Carl shook his head. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is." Wilmur said, sitting up, stroking Carl's palm. "Look what's happened while I was gone on runs. First, your dad overworks you, then Patrick tries to rape you, and now the prison get's attacked by the walkers again. I haven't been there to protect you, and I'm sorry. I promise not to go on as much runs anymore."

Carl shook his head again. "But that's your job."

"No, that's not my job. My job is to protect you. That's been my real job all along."

Carl smiled, holding onto his lover's hand.

"I love it when you smile." Wilmur said.

The younger lover's cheeks grew rosier, blushing.

"I love it when you blush, too."

"Stop." Carl said smiling, blushing deeper.

"But why?" Wilmur teased, making Carl blush deeper again. "Its true."

Wilmur laughed at Carl's red face, bringing him in for a hug and kissing his forehead before leaning in on his lips. Carl leaned in back and they gently placed their lips against each other's. Wilmur licked Carl's lip, trying to gain access. The younger lover obeyed and opened his mouth, letting Wilmur's tongue in.

The tongues battle each other like wrestling matches. It grew more passionate and tender every second as the tongues battled. It caused Wilmur to be on top of Carl, but he didn't mind. Wilmur slipped his hand under Carl's shirt, feeling around his smooth, soft skin as their tongues continued to battle.

"Wil-Wilmur." Carl panted as he pulled away. "If you're getting to 'it'...I'm not-I'm not ready."

Wilmur pulled himself off Carl. "That's not what I was doing, don't worry. I would never force you to do anything."

"I'm-I'm sorry." Carl apologized.

The older lover sighed and laid down beside his younger lover, his fingers running through the younger lover's soft hair. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's okay if you're not ready for sex. I understand. I wasn't ready at first with Kevin."

"It's just that...I was ready...until Patrick."

Wilmur growled as he thought of Patrick, the stupid, desperate teenager who tried to take his lover from him. Because of him, he took Carl's chances of being ready away. It wasn't that he was desperate to have it with Carl, he was just mad that Patrick made him scared.

"But you know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?" Wilmur said, rubbing Carl's waist.

"I know." Carl replied quietly.

Wilmur kissed Carl's temple and brushed his soft, brown hair away from his face, kissing him again. "You need to sleep."

"You do, too." Carl responded.

The older lover shook his head. "I won't sleep unless you fall asleep."

Carl closed his eyes and buried his face in his lover's neck, draping his arm over his chest and peacefully falling asleep in one minute. Wilmur smiled and kissed Carl's forehead before snuggling closer to him and letting himself fall asleep peacefully.

Carl woke up before Wilmur did. He realized Rick let him sleep in again, and he hated it when he did that. He wanted to help, it was his job just like protecting Wilmur was. But he didn't want to wake his older lover up. It was always hard to escape and get to Wilmur without waking him up. He always sensed when his presence was there or gone.

Carefully, he shifted to get up as gently as he could, but he woke his lover up anyway. Wilmur stirred awake and smiled when he saw his lover was awake.

"Going to work in the fields?"

The younger lover nodded. "Yep, but I shouldn't be working long today. We should have a day to ourselves in a few hours."

Wilmur smiled and pushed himself off the bunker and kissed Carl gently. "See you in a few hours then."

Carl giggled. "You rest until I get here."

"No." Wilmur declined. "I'm gonna help around the prison. Try to figure out who killed Karen and David."

He would have to talk to Rick about how he thinks it's Carol, but he didn't want to tell Carl right now just to be sure.

"Okay, see you in a few hours." Carl kissed Wilmur on the lips before heading out the door.

Little did they know, that would be their last special moment they have together. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Breaking Rocks

"I've been on the road for a couple of months." Said a man

The woman looked at the women with curiousness in her eyes. "By yourself?"

"Yeah". He replied.

"Where did you live before that?"

"...I was in a town."

Memories of Woodbury flashed through his mind. Everyone was smiling and laughing. People were chatting as they watch the children play in the street. Guards were looking over the place by the gates. Everyone was enjoying their lives, not worrying about a single thing outside the gates.

"Were the monsters there?" The younger woman asked.

"...No...it was safe. Full of good people."

Everyone in Woodbury were good people. They were willing to fight every second even though they knew nothing about the outside world. All they did was laugh, drink, eat, play, and have fun. None of them bothered to experience what the real world was like until a war came between them.

"What happened?" The older woman asked.

The man bowed his head. "He lost it."

"Who?" Asked the younger woman.

"The man in charge, and my son." The man replied. "I barely got out alive."

Wilmur made his way back to cellblock C. The cellblock he felt like he hasn't seen in forever. Where his own cell laid. Although everything looked the same, something felt different. It was plain, safe, and clean. The air was clean and fresh unlike cellblock A and D. In cellblock D, all you could smell was the scent left from the dead bodies. Cellblock A smelt like dead bodies, puke, and blood.

Everyone was trying to clean up the cells up with masks covering their faces and yellow raincoats protecting them while other people who was trying to recover somewhere else. Cellblock C was the only decent cellblock left for now.

"Man, you couldn't have waited until we got back?" Wilmur heard Daryl say angrily as he walked up the stairs.

Rick slightly bended his head to the side. "Until Tyreese got back?"

"I could've handled that." Daryl said with frustration.

"What's going on?" Wilmur asked, his hand placed over his holster.

Rick turned to him. "Carol. She's the one who killed Karen and David."

Wilmur stared with shock although he knew she was the one who did it. Everything about her made him suspicious. Her nervousness of Tyreese, her strong moral code for surviving, and her overprotectiveness of the prison.

"Where is she?" He asked.

"He kicked her out." Daryl said angrily, scoffing. "He didn't bother to talk to anyone about it."

"Hey. Hey." Rick said, turning his attention back to Daryl. "She killed two of our own. She couldn't be here."

Daryl glared at Rick. He never bothered to ask the group if they were okay about anything. He did it with Wilmur, Michonne, and now Carol?

"She's gonna be all right." Rick reassured. "She has a car, supplies, weapons. She's a survivor."

Daryl scoffed. "Stop saying that like you don't believe it."

"You have to think about it, Daryl." Wilmur said. "What if it was someone else she killed? Like Tyreese or Glenn? What if it was Carl or Judith?"

Daryl shook his head. "She would never kill someone we love."

"But she just did." Wilmur denied. "It's like Bob. We were gonna kick him out."

"But we didn't." Daryl scoffed. "He saved your life. Just like Carol tried to save us!"

Rick shook his head. "She did it. She said it was for us. She wasn't sorry. That's how it was in her head, she wasn't sorry."

Daryl stepped in front of Rick. "Man, that's her, but it ain't her."

And he was right. Carol was someone who always defended and protected the group for the better. She was always willing to kill anyone if it for their sake, but she was never willing to kill two of her own.

Daryl scoffed as he took a few steps back from Wilmur and Rick. Anger and rage was filling his veins. His fists were clenching to keep himself from punching a hole in the wall.

How were they suppose to take care of her two adoptive daughters, Lizzie and Mika? Their father had already died when Patrick died and attacked cellblock D. Their mother died a long time ago. If Carol wasn't there to take care of them, then who will? Daryl already had an adoptive child to take care of, Rick had two children, and everybody else didn't have the responsibility to look after a child.

"What're we suppose to do about those two girls?" Daryl asked.

Rick sighed. "I told her we'd-we'd look after them."

Daryl shook his head in frustration and placed his arms on the railing, burying his face in his hands. His own leader kicked out the first person he cared about since the apocalypse began. She was gone and he would most likely never see her again.

Wilmur stood behind his adoptive father and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I haven't told Tyreese yet." Rick said. "I don't know how he's gonna take it."

Daryl pushed himself off the railing, looking at Rick with softer eyes. "Let's go find out."

A knock on the door ringed in the man's ears. He didn't want to get up and open it. He just wanted the two women to leave him alone. One of them already threatened to kill him many times and the older one wouldn't stop trying to take care of him.

The two other people in the apartment was an old man and a little girl. The old man was a bit cranky and the little girl was quite a shy one.

The man grunted and pushed himself off the couch before walking over to the door, creaking it open quietly. It was the same woman who has been trying to take care of him unlike her younger sister. She had a bowl of spagetious in her hands. The smell was delectable and made his mouth water as the smell filled his nostrils.

"You gotta be hungry." She said. "You're not gonna find anything in there better in there."

She held the bowl in front of his hands, smiling weakly. He stared down at the bowl before slowly taking it.

" Thank you." He said before shutting the door.

He looked down at the delicious bowl of food. Just the smell made him want to slam the bowl on the floor and shatter it to pieces. All the food managed to do now was remind him of loss. The loss of food reminded him of the loss of his family.

By now, he's lost his entire family. All of the friend's he met either left him behind, got killed, or betrayed him. Everything these days always ended in blood or death.

Without expressing it, he vengefully poured the spagetious out of the window before sitting back on the couch. He picked up a can he found somewhere in the room and began eating it.

While eating, he looked at the picture of his beautiful wife, his gorgeous daughter, and his brave son.

"Tyreese! You down here?" Rick yelled with Daryl and Wilmur following from behind.

"Rick, that you?" Tyreese called back.

The three walk down the dark hallway and circle around the corner to see Tyreese. "You guys gotta see this."

"Can we take a beat?" Rick asked. "There's something we need to talk about."

"It can wait." Tyreese replied, his voice echoing in the dark hall. "Come on."

Wilmur looked at Rick and shrugged before following Tyreese down the hallway with flashlights guiding them. There was a little bit of blood droplets on the floor. Hopefully another person didn't get hurt.

Tyreese shined his flashlight against the wall. "Look."

Wilmur shined his flashlight against the bottom of the wall to see a dead animal pinned to a wooden board. It's body was ripped and teared open from a walker, and it wasn't accidental.

Someone had pinned the animal to the board so the walkers could be fed. It was just like the eaten rats at the fences. Someone was feeding them just like someone had fed the animal to a walker, but who?

Carol would never feed anything to a walker. Bob wouldn't feed a walker no matter how much liquor he drank. Patrick was dead. Who could it be?

"I was just looking for...answers...and I found this." Tyreese said, memories of whoever killed Karen and David flooded his angry mind. "Same person that killed Karen and David did this."

Wilmur examined the eaten animal to make sure the person who did it didn't leave any clues.

"Remember the rats at the fence?" Tyreese recalled. "They showed up the same day she was killed. We got a psychopath living with us!"

"Tyreese-" Rick is cut off."  
"We got to find 'em, Rick! And I'm not gonna sleep until we do."

Wilmur sighed and crossed his arms, looking at the eaten animal. He was still angry at what Tyreese said to him, but he slightly forgave him because he took care of him when he was sick, but he hasn't forgiven him completely. Of course, Tyreese was angry and he understood why, but that doesn't mean he could insult someone else's relationship.

But they had to figure out who killed Karen and David and they had. Now they had to figure out who was feeding the walkers. He couldn't argue with Tyreese. If they were going to figure out who the dangerous threat in the prison was then they needed to work together.

Rick shined the flashlight on the eaten animal. "Tyreese...whoever did this, I don't think that's who killed Karen and David."

Tyreese furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

Before Rick could even answer, an explosion blew out of nowhere, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. The four quickly rushed out of the building and back into the bright sunlight from where the explosion came from.

Carl, Maggie, and Beth had already ran outside and looked outside the fence.

"Get back!" Rick yelled, yanking his gun out of his holster.

Wilmur quickly rushed to Carl to make sure he was okay, but his attention was immiedently yanked away from him and onto the dangerous group who was standing just outside their fences with tanks and fully loaded strong guns.

The leader who is standing in front of them all is what caught Wilmur's eye. Slowly, his eyes turned into a deadly glare upon seeing the same, stupid leader he saw long ago.

The Governor.

Wilmur's fists clenched and growls rippled from his chest as rage filled his crystal blue eyes. Flashes of his father sitting by and watching Penny died before memories of his father threatening Carl flooded his mind. Another memory flashed before his eyes, picturing himself getting abused by him before seeing him kill Milton and letting him turn to rip the flesh from Andrea's skin.

And now he was sitting here with new people working the fully loaded tanks. He hasn't even said anything yet and he's already threatening him, his lover, and everyone else.

"Rick! Justin!" He yelled from across the field. "Come down here! We need to talk!"

Wilmur stood in front of Carl protectively. He remembered how he threatened to force his younger lover to suffer horribly and horrifyingly, and he wasn't going to let that happen. He promised and swore to protect Carl. If the Governor wanted him, he'd have to get through him first before he got to Carl.

If he left Carl's side, who would protect him? Rick had to go down there in the field with him, too. The second Carl is out of his sight, he's in danger.

Carl gently gripped onto his older lover's hand, holding it. He knew exactly what Wilmur was thinking, and he was thinking the exact same thing. If Wilmur went in the fields with the Governor, anything could happen to him just like anything could happen to Rick.

Rick stood nervously as he stared at all the tanks, ammo, guns, and weapons the Governor had. "It's not up to me! There's a council now! they run this place!"

"Hershel on the council?" The Governor questioned.

Suddenly, Hershel is pulled out of the car with his hands tied together. A women guided him to lay on his knees in front of the Governor's tank where he stood.

Wilmur glared at his father as Hershel was forced to get on his knees. His father just took one of the members who helped and saved many people hostage. He wouldn't let him take his lover or anyone in the prison hostage, but he just did. And now Hershel was in danger.

"What about Michonne?" The Governor asked as she was pulled from the car and forced to get on her knees beside Hershel. "She on the council, too?"

Wilmur glared as he held Carl's hand behind him, stroking the soft palm softly, reassuring him that he'll protect him at all costs. Even if it meant getting himself killed.

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Rick yelled across the field.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick! You're making a single decision just like Justin is!"

Wilmur's glare hardened at each of his father's words. Him and Rick both had different decisions to make. And they both knew if they don't do what the Governor wanted then they'll die.

"Come down here." The Governor demanded. "Let's...let's have that talk."

Rick sighed and looked at the glaring Wilmur. Rage was visible in his crystal blue eyes and his fists were clutched so tightly that blood could sink through his palms. He stared at Rick with the same glare in his eyes as he thought of the Governor. He watched as Rick made his way over to his son.

"We can do this. All right?" Rick said, noticing his son's anger and nervousness.

Carl nodded and let his father walk away before looking at his older lover. Wilmur to look at the younger and nodded, letting go of his hand and following Rick to the gate.

Now that he wasn't by Carl's side, he was in danger. No one was left there determined to protect him. If something happened, no matter how many people are around Carl, no one was determined to protect him like he and Rick was. All he could do was hope he could get to safety without him.

Daryl opened the gate for him and Rick, letting them through into danger. Wilmur walked behind Rick with his hand on the pistol in his holster, glaring at the Governor. If there was no tanks or people to protect him, he would've already killed him.

In the distance, Carl was watching as his older lover's glare grew stronger and stronger even though he couldn't see it. Wilmur was in every danger now. Someone could easily shoot him and Rick or the Governor could take them hostage. The person whose controlling the tank can fire a canon toward Rick and Wilmur. All weapons was pointed toward them, and they could easily die.

Rick and Wilmur reached the end of the fence. Their hands were touching the cold steel of their guns in their holsters as they both glared at the Governor.

"Let 'em go." Rick ordered. "We'll stay down here. Talk as long as you want. But you let 'em go. You got a tank. You don't need hostages."

"I do." The Governor corrected. "This is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home."

Wilmur added more death to his death glare as he stared at the evil man whose trying to stand above them all. He was trying to kick women and children out of safety, and none of them knew how to fight. He was forcing out his own ex-members of Woodbury, including Wilmur. Everyone will be in the deep, dark woods, alone and hungry.

"You and your people have sundown to get outta here or they die." The Governor threatened.

"Doesn't have to go down this way." Rick said.

"I got more people, more firepower..." The Governor chuckled. "We need this prison."

"Well, you're not taking it." Wilmur replied. "You had Woodbury. What happened to it? Did you destroy it yourself?"

The Governor scoffed, chuckling. "I didn't destroy it. You did. Everyone here did."

"Yeah, because we didn't have a choice. You did."

"And now the same thing is happening to you. You either hand over the prison or we gun it down."

"There are children here." Rick said. "Some of them are sick. They won't-they won't survive..."

Countless children have already died from the war between Rick and the Governor. A lot of them were child soldiers while the others were innocent children trying to escape the violent war. Both of the groups died. Only five children survived the terrifying war. Lizzie, Mika, Patrick, and two other young children. Some others survived, but they were either an old teen or a child soldier. The five children were the innocent ones.

And now the Governor was trying to kick them out. Lizzie was sick. Mika and the other two children were too young to fight or defend themselves. If they got kicked out, there wasn't a chance they'd survive. Even if they had many adults willing to protect them, they'll all die eventually.

The Governor scoffed. "I have a tank, and I'm letting you walk away from here. Well...almost all of you."

Wilmur glared and tightened his grip on his gun, slowly pulling it out of his holster and hiding it behind his back, clicking the safety off the get ready for whatever happens next.

"All you need to do it walk away from the prison, and then Justin has to give himself to me. One decision yours and the other is Justin's."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Wilmur growled, his grip on the pistol tightening.

The Governor scoffed. "You're gonna do it anyway. You hand the prison over to me, or it dies and all of you die. Justin stays with me or I'll kill him, Michonne, and Hershel...and then I'll come for your son, Rick."

Wilmur growled, his grip on his pistol impossibly growing tighter and tighter. He couldn't let his father take the one person he loved more than anything in the universe away from him. He can take the prison, but he won't let him touch Carl. He's already lost Penny and Andrea. He'd lose it if his father killed Carl. He'd rather die painfully and slowly than let his father lay a finger on his lover.

"Doesn't have to be like that." The Governor continued. "Like I said, it's your choices."

A walker snarl interrupted their conversation. The Governor smirked and pulled out his gun, firing three bullets at the two walkers. Wilmur glared at each bullet shooting out of the gun. He knew he was only trying to attract more walkers to force them out of the prison, but it couldn't work. They had to fight back. They've won before. They can win again.

"Noise will only draw more of them over." The Governor said, placing his gun back in his holster. "The longer you wait, the harder it'll be for you to get outta here."

Wilmur glared, threatening the Governor through his blue eyes to send a bullet through his head. He had to grip onto his pistol so tightly to keep himself from killing his father.

Meanwhile, Carl was doing the same thing. His fingers were trembling on the trigger on the gun Daryl had given him, threatening to end the Governor's life for good. If he just killed the Governor right now, Wilmur and Rick wouldn't have to be in danger. But he knew it could immiedently cause a rapid war between their group and his group, but he couldn't just sit by and let his father and lover throw themselves in danger. Rick and Wilmur wouldn't let it happen to him. Whose to say he can't do the same thing?

"We gotta do something." Carl said as he glared at the Governor.

"Your dad's got it." Daryl denied.

"They're talking." Carl replied. "We could kill the Governor right now."

"From 50 yards?" Daryl questioned.

"I'm a good shot." Carl said. "I could end this right now."

Daryl shook his head. "Yeah, or you could start somethin' else. Ya gotta trust him."

Carl sighed and continued to glare at the Governor, his grip on his shotgun tightening. His ice cold blue eyes show a glare with a death sentence in it. As much as he wanted to shoot the Governor, he wouldn't. He couldn't risk violence against his father and older lover. As long as Rick was down there, he'll figure something out just like he always does.

Wilmur was glaring and clutching his gun tightly just like Carl was. Each minute, his eyes show a sentence of a death threat upon the Governor. They couldn't give the prison away, nor him because he had to stay with Carl. But if he didn't go with his father, Carl would die anyway. If they found a way to keep the prison, they wouldn't have to give him away.

The Governor looked at the sky before looking back down at Rick and Wilmur with a cold glare in his eye. "You got maybe about an hour of sunlight left. I suggest you give Justin to me and start packing."

Wilmur's finger moved toward the trigger hiding behind his back. Growls waved out of his chest as he glared upon his father. He could see Penny and Carl dying through the Governor's cold, blue eyes.

"The longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be for you to get outta here." The Governor said.

Rick shook his head. "We can all-" He flinched before continuing. "We can all live together."

Wilmur flinched and mouthed a 'no' to Rick. If the Governor lived with them, Wilmur couldn't leave Carl's side no matter what. He'd have to watch over him while he slept and follow him everywhere in the prison. Even the shower and bathroom. He couldn't risk taking his eyes off Carl if the Governor was under the same roof.

Rick ignored the 'no' Wilmur gave him. "There's enough room for all of us."

"More than enough." The Governor replied. "But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing you were under the same roof."

Rick shook his head. "We'd live in different cellblocks. We never have to see each other till we're all ready."

Everyone in their cellblocks most likely wouldn't think twice about messing with the Governor. But the Governor always lied to them, and he could really kill them all if they let them in the prison. It wouldn't be safe for Carl anymore. He'd end up evacuating Carl out of the prison just to get him to safety. But he knew Carl wouldn't agree with it. He would want to take the Governor down, but it was too big of a risk.

Hershel turned his head to look at the Governor. "It could work. You know it could."

The Governor nodded. "It could've. But it can't. Not after Woodbury...not after Andrea."

Wilmur flinched under Andrea's name. Memories of her flooded his mind. He could remember how his father tied her up to a chair and forced Milton to kill her after he came back as a walker. He was the one who caused Andrea to send a bullet through her head.

"Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy." Rick replied. "Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice."

"We don't." The Governor responded. "You do."

They had a choice to leave the prison and give it to the Governor along with Wilmur. If they didn't listen, the Governor would shoot down the prison, kill Wilmur, kill Hershel, kill Michonne, and kill Carl. Nothing but blood would be splattered against the dust of the prison walls. Everything and everyone they had would be in immiedente danger.

But it would be the same if the Governor entered the prison. He could easily kill everyone in their cellblocks and take over the prison anyway. Blood would still be everywhere. Tension would rise up against them. No one would be able to relax unless the Governor killed them all.

If they left and gave Wilmur to the Governor, they'd walk away from all the violence and blood. But they'd be in danger outside the prison. Many people didn't know how to fight. Children couldn't defend themselves. There would be too many people to protect, and there'd be no time to teach them how to fight.

"We're not leaving." Rick said. "I'm not giving Wilmur to you."

The Governor glared at the two men as his finger tapped his gun in his holster. Rick was refusing to give up the prison and Wilmur was too determined to protect everyone, especially Carl. He had put everyone and everything at threat, but they were still willing to fight back.

"You try and force us, we'll fight back." Rick said. "Like you said, the gunshots will just bring more of 'em out. They'll take down the fences. Without the fences, this place is worthless."

They'd fight back if the Governor tried to take Wilmur or the prison. Blood would be stained everywhere and particles dust would fill the air from the remains of the destroyed prison. Deaths would be among it. No one would be alive.

"Now, we can all live in the prison or none of us can." Rick said.

The Governor scoffed and jumped off the tank angrily, grabbing Michonne's sword from a man and walking toward Hershel vengefully. He pressed the cold steel against Hershel's neck, gripping his shoulder to keep him from moving. "We'll fix the damn fences."

Wilmur's glared hardened as he slowly pulled the gun closer to a seeing sight. If he killed Hershel, gunshots would will the rustling, dead air. They wouldn't just lose Hershel, they'd lose the prison. Everyone would lose everything they worked so hard for because the Governor took it from them.

Rick took a few steps back as panic flooded his light blue eyes. He looked at a women with her dark brown hair in pony tails and pointed at her. They could both tell in her eyes that she didn't want to be attacking them. She didn't want any of it.

"You. You in the ponytails. Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?" Rick yelled.

"What we want, is what you got. Period." A man on the tank said. "Time for you to leave, assholes."

Wilmur glared at the man on the tank. His hands were threatening to pull out his pistol and shoot the smartass in the head. He wanted to shoot every one of them for threating to kill and take their place.

"Look, we fought him before." Rick pointed at the Governor, trying to make the Governor's people see what a monster he is. "He tied up his own son and beat him nearly to death. His son is standing beside me right now because we took him in, fed him, gave him a bed, and a roof to live under. We did the same with his old friends after we fought him. They've become leaders in what we have here. Including his son. Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates...you're one of us."

The Governor looked at his glaring son to realize what he has become. He wasn't just Rick's son's boyfriend. He became a young man who took care and protected people just like he used to. He wasn't the boy who threw everything and everyone else away anymore. He wasn't Justin, he was Wilmur.

Rick and Carl had turned him in a young man who cared for everyone he loved. He helped defend his home. He protected everyone and everything in it unlike Woodbury. The Governor had his old son back.

"We let go of all of it, and nobody dies." Rick said. "Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone who's made it this far. We've all done the worst kind of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone."

Slowly, the Governor withdrawaled Michonne's sword away from Hershel's neck. He's did everything he could to kill Rick and stay alive. Wilmur's done everything he could to protect Carl and stay alive. Rick has did everything he could to keep his group alive, and it caused them all to do selfish, horrible things like fighting each other for no reason.

"We get to come back." Rick continued. "I know...we all can change."

Everyone can change. Wilmur changed from Justin. Rick changed from an uncaring man to a caring one. Daryl's changed from a selfish man to an unselfish and caring one. Everyone in the prison changed, and now it was the Governor's turn. It was his turn to change from a selfish and brutal man to a caring and protective one.

Wilmur mourned for his old father to come back for a long time. If he was able to, maybe he could trust him again. He would never forgive him, but he'd at least gain a little trust.

The Governor stared at Michonne's sword, Rick's words sinking into his head. Each and every word was true. If he could change, he could have another relationship with his son again. They'd be back to the way they were before the world turned upside down. He'd care for people again, and people would care for him.

He suddenly froze and glared. Michonne had killed his daughter. Rick had attacked Woodbury. Andrea and his son betrayed him. He took away his people. His group caused Woodbury to burn down.

"Liar." The Governor breathed out.

Suddenly, the Governor smashed his sword against Hershel's neck. Blood spewed out and soaked through his shirt. Wilmur stared with shock as the blood soaked into Hershel's shirt while the sword was resting inside his neck. Anger filled his sad eyes as he watched another person he loved fall to the floor with his head half way chopped off, still alive.

Anger, rage, caring, and sadness overwhelmed his vengeful veins and steamed his heart. Growls rippled from his chest as one of the most deadliest glares he's ever had in his entire life flooded his vengeful eyes. His fingers trembled and threatened to drop his pistol, but he gripped onto it so tightly in rage.

"No!" Rick yelled, firing the first gunshot with Wilmur following afterwards.

Another gunshot fired into the Governor's arm, causing him to yelp in pain. Wilmur ignored his father's pain and fired a shot to his other arm, but missed. He kept firing his pistol until Rick yanked him away from the other bullets flying in the air. They quickly rushed to a bus with Wilmur being shoved ahead.

A bullet is sent to Rick's leg, making him collapse to the ground in pain. Wilmur quickly pulled the rest of his body behind the bus and sat beside him, putting pressure on the wound before getting up and flaring more bullets out of his pistol toward the Governor and a women standing behind Hershel's body.

He could see Michonne rolling to safety as he fired bullets toward his father in rage and anger. He managed to dig a bullet in his ankle just like he got a bullet in his ankle when he was the one who attacked the prison right before he met Carl. He quickly dodged a bullet when a women fired a bullet at him. He hid behind the bus again and helped Rick up.

"Get up!" He yelled through the loud, echoing gunfire firing across the fields of the prison.

Rick stood up and stood behind Wilmur, firing bullets toward the Governor's men before dodging a bullet quickly. Wilmur looked ahead to see Carl firing shotgun bullets across the field. He didn't appear to be injured...yet. He had to protect him. He had to keep the Governor and all of his men from digging inside the prison.

Wilmur shot a man dead who was running across the field and shooting at Daryl and Carl. He turned his attention back to the men who were trying to get in the fences. He shot another one down who managed to climb over the fences. Rick fired a bullet right over his shoulder and shot another man down.

Another person managed to climb over the fences, but Wilmur missed when he fired his bullet at her. He continued to try and shoot her, but she was too fast. Wilmur growled and grunted before firing his bullets at the man on the tank. He managed to hit one in the shoulder, but that was all. He quickly sunk in the tank and shut the lid before coming back out when he and Rick were focused on shooting the Governor and other men and women.

The young teen quickly dodged behind the fallen bus and reloaded his pistol before shooting at another man. He managed to knock him down, but couldn't fire another bullet at him. Rick killed the man and turned his attention to the Governor. They could see him standing beside the tank, smirking and chuckling with his gun held in his hand.

Wilmur glared and roared as he fired bullets toward his father. The Governor dodged the bullets and hid behind the tank. He glared and shot at the tank in rage until Rick pulled him behind the bus again.

Suddenly, the tank started driving straight through their fences, knocking everything down. Trucks drove in with people firing at them as other people ran in the field and started firing at everyone inside the fences. Rick shot at the trucks while Wilmur shot at the people running through the field.

He turned his attention to the Governor who was guarded by people with machine guns. He quickly fired his bullets at him, missing every time and shooting at the guards instead. The tank fired off a canon and knocked down a glass window. All he could do was hope the people near there was okay. Carl was near there, hopefully he ran.

Carl.

Wilmur spunned around to see that his younger lover was no longer standing at the spot with a shotgun. Daryl was nowhere to be seen either. The only people he could see was Maggie and Beth running toward the bus which was gonna evacuate people. He began to panic when he couldn't see his lover. He was out of sight and he couldn't protect him anymore. He had to find him!

Rick grabbed Wilmur by the shoulder and pulled him back when he tried to run through the field. "What're you doin?!"

"Let go of me! I have to find Carl!" Wilmur yelled over the gunfire, trying to pull away from Rick's tight grip.

"You can't find him over all this!"  
"I promised to protect him!"  
"Well, if you die, you can't protect him!"

Wilmur glared at Rick before another canon was fired out of the tank, shaking the ground like a massive earthquake and shattering some of the prison windows to pieces.

Suddenly, they see the Governor rushing up to the bus. Wilmur attempted to fire another bullet at him, but Rick pulled him behind the bus before he could. They hid behind the bus on the other side to hide from the Governor as he fired bullets at the prison people. Wilmur reloaded his gun and handed Rick a new pack of bullets.

Another canon is fired against the prison building, shaking the bus and shifting it a little. Wilmur prayed to God that Carl was safe in this entire mess. He hoped he ran from the gunfire instead of running toward it. He had to find him before the Governor did. He had to shield him away from the violence and blood the Governor was creating.

As soon as the Governor walked away from his hiding spot, Wilmur fired a bullet at him before jumping right on top of him with Rick doing the same. They knocked him to the ground with Rick punching him in the face while Wilmur kicked his legs and stomach hard. He dropped his gun and tried to reach for it, but the Governor managed to kick him and Rick off and slam him against the hard bus.

Wilmur was knocked to the ground after he was slammed against the cold steel. The Governor punched Rick before he head-butted him and knocked him off. The young teen jumped back up after he vison was cleared and punched the Governor's neck and kicked his legs before slamming his foot against his.

The Governor grabbed him and slammed him against the bus, punching him several times before kicking his legs and scratching his arms hard. Crimson blood seeped through Wilmur's skin and soaked onto his cloths. He pressed his fingers against the Governor's throat, but he bit them. As soon as another canon is fired, they're both knocked the bloody grass.

Rick jumped on top of the Governor after two more canons shook the ground and punched him with his broken knuckles. Wilmur pulled out his knife and stabbed his father in the hand dragging it up into his arm, ripping his shirt. The Governor roared and knocked Wilmur off him by yanking his arm up and slashing his knife against his cheek, creating a deep cut. He punched Rick in the face and kicked him to the ground before stabbing them both, creating deep and bloody wounds.

Blood poured from their wounds and soaked into their cloths as the Governor hit them more than a thousand times. He grabbed Wilmur's wrist and broke it, causing him to yelp in pain. He slammed his foot against his father's and punched him in the face, breaking his knuckles. His father growled and roared before punching him and Rick back, knocking them to the ground.

The Governor punched Rick several times before turning to the injured Wilmur and started kicking his ribcages, breaking them. He sprained his other first before focusing on Wilmur's face, breaking his nose and giving him a black eye. Blood splattered all over his father as he punched and kicked his injured, fragile body. He slammed his foot into Wilmur's ribcage again before doing the same to his knees.

His father held his head and slammed it to the ground several times before punching it again. He broke three of his son's fingers and sprained one of his feet. He slashed a knife against on of his palms before sinking it through and doing the same to the other palm. When another canon is shot, it gave him time to moan over his pain. It shook the Governor off him and gave him time to scramble for his knife.

However, his father slammed his foot on his bag, cracking it before kicking his ribcage hard to turn him over. He picked up his knife and slammed it right into one of his son's ribcages. Wilmur yelped and screamed in pain over the ringing gunfire before clutching the ribcage. His father slammed the knife into his right shoulder and did the same with the left. He smashed his knife into the other ribcage and shoved it up his skin, causing him to scream and cry in pain.

He finally yanked the knife out of his ribcage and punched him one last time before making his way over to Rick, now starting to torture him. Wilmur laid there and clutched his ribcages and shoulders in pain. His vison was slowly fading away. He could see Carl laughing on top of sparkling river rocks as the moon shined down on him. His blue eyes were glistening against the sparkles and shining in the bright moonlight.

Carl.

No, he couldn't die yet! Not until he's found Carl and put him to safety! If he died, then Carl would be in danger. Like Rick said, if he died, he couldn't protect him. He couldn't protect anyone.

Rick's grunting erupted Wilmur back to present. He could hear his father's fist slam against Rick's bloody face. Wilmur quickly scrambled up, yelping and wincing in pain. He picked up the gun he's dropped and rushed over to his father, pulling him off Rick weakly and punching him with his fragile fists.

The Governor grunted as he shoved his son off him and punched him in the lips, busting them. Wilmur ignored the pain and weakly held his father at gun point, clicking the safety off.

The Governor scoffed angrily. "You gonna kill me? Huh?!"

Wilmur just kept aiming, tears filling his eyes as he realized what he's just about it do. He's about to kill his father. The man who took care of him and loved him since the day he was born and up until the apocalypse. He always held him when he cried and drove him to school every morning. He always made him laugh and giggle. When he got hurt, he'd help him heal. When he couldn't sleep at night, he'd stand by his bed and keep him safe.

He was killing the father who always took care of him until the apocalypse started. The man who kept him warm and cozy his whole life until all the shit happened. He shielded him from the violence and blood until the world went insane.

And now he was going to the man who cared for him. Tears poured down his cheeks as memories of his father holding him flashed through his mind. He sobbed as his fingers trembled against the trigger.

"Are you gonna shoot me?!"

Sobs slipped out of his throat as he cried. Tears poured down his cheeks and slipped past his lips, activating the salty and bloody taste on his tongue. He wailed as his hands shook against his pistol. Tears landed against his bloody, broken hands while others landed on the cold steel of his pistol.

The Governor threw his arms in air, shrugging. "Shoot me!"

Wilmur cried as he began shaking when he fingers drew closer to the trigger. However, he didn't need to kill his father. Michonne sent her sword straight through his stomach. The Governor screamed and wailed in pain as she yanked the sword out of his stomach and collapsed to the dead grass.

The young teen sobbed and placed his gun back in his holster. He watched as his father clutched onto his wound and moan. He sobbed and glared at his father at the same time. He wiped his tears from his cheeks as him and Michonne turn to Rick, watching him push himself up.

"C-Carl?! Where's Carl?!" Rick said as Michonne and Wilmur helped him up.

"I don't know." Michonne replied.

Rick pulled away from Michonne's grip and walked toward the steaming smoke and fire coming out of the prison with Wilmur following behind him. He had to find his lover. He needed to see if he was okay. He'd die if he finds him dead. He wouldn't live with himself. Depression would take over their love and kill him.

Wilmur and Rick fell down a couple times from their wounds, but the thought of Carl being dead forced them to get up and move. They walked across crimson blood left from walkers and humans. Fire gleamed against the concrete and smoke filled the blue sky.

"Carl! Please be alive! I'm coming!" Wilmur yelled, crying.

They walked past burning fire and more crimson blood before running across walkers. They were too weak to fight them off. But they didn't need to. Carl shot the walkers down with his shotgun.

Tears filled Wilmur's eyes upon seeing Carl in the steaming smoke. He and Rick rushed to him, hugging him tightly. Wilmur cried into Carl's shoulder and kissed his cheek before kissing his lips. Nothing mattered but them in the moment. They almost lost each other because of the stupid, selfish Governor.

"Oh my God!" Wilmur smiled, crying tears of joy when they pulled away.

Carl smiled and hugged his lover and father tightly, burying his face in their bloody and damaged shoulders. Rick and Wilmur were both crying tears of joy. They were so happy he was alive. They've almost lost him, and they can't let it happen again.

Wilmur kissed Carl against the lips before finally pulling away from their tight hug. He noticed a walker had a bow in it's chest.

Daryl.

"You guys find Judith and get out of here." Wilmur said, pulling away from Carl's hand but got yanked back.

"What about you?" Carl panicked, fear filling his eyes.

Wilmur turned around. "I gotta find Daryl. I'll find you."

The older teen tried to pull away from the younger teen's grip, but it only tightened. "But-but you can't leave! What if we never see each other again?!"

Wilmur turned around and cupped Carl's cheeks, stroking it softly. "Carl, I promise I'll find you."

The younger lover shook his head, the fear in his eyes growing stronger. If they separated, they might never see each other again. The world was too big to find each other. This could be the last time Wilmur and Carl ever see each other.

Wilmur noticed the fear in Carl's eyes. Tears started fill his as he stared down at his younger lover. "Look, I promise you I'll find you. I won't stop searching. Even if it takes forever, I won't stop searching until I find you. This isn't goodbye, I promise you."

Tears slip out of Carl's blue eyes and dripped down his cheeks, but Wilmur brushed them away. "I will find you. Don't think that I won't. Just stay alive, and I promise we'll see each other again. Okay? I promise."

Carl nodded, sniffling. His blue eyes were glowing with tears and the fire reflected against the tears on his rosy cheeks. Beautiful sobs slipped past his lips as he mummered a goodbye.

Wilmur pulled away from the hug and opened up Carl's hand, placing the heart shaped sparkling rock in his palm he made for him. "Keep it. I made it for you on the run so I can be with you no matter where I go."

The younger lover sniffled as he stared down at the beautiful, sparkling heart shaped rock. It sparkled against his light blue eyes and Wilmur's crystal blue eyes.

"Oh my God, Carl! I love you! I love you so much!" Wilmur wailed, pulling his lover young into a tight hug. "Stay alive! I love you!"

The two boys embrace tightly, clinging to each other as if it was their final moment together. They both cried into each other's shoulders as sobs escaped their throats. Tears soaked into each other's shoulders as goodbyes were mumbling out of their mouths.

Wilmur and Carl share a final kiss. Their tongues battle as the kiss grew stronger. Before it could grow any stronger, Wilmur pulled away and brushed another tear from Carl's cheek. He pulled away from their embrace and walked over to Rick and hugged him.

"Your son means everything to me, Rick. Keep him safe."

Rick wrapped his arms around Wilmur's slender body. "I will."

Wilmur kissed Rick's cheek before picking up his gun and placing it in his holster and running down the prison concretes, disappearing in the bright smoke.

Rick placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, stroking it gently with his thumb. "We have to find Judith."

Carl sniffled and nodded, helping his father hold himself up and they guide themselves to Judith's baby seat. But she wasn't in it. Instead, fresh, crimson blood stained the baby seat. Tears fill Rick's eyes and pour down his cheeks, soaking into the blood in his beard. Carl pulled away from his father and rushed to a walker, shooting it a hundred times in rage. They caused his baby sister's death. They caused everything to get destroyed. It was all their fault.

If the walkers never came to destroy the world, the Governor would've never came! No one wouldn't die and everyone would be smiling and laughing! Everyone would be safe from the monstrous people. But that didn't happen. The walkers killed his mother and sister! It separated him from his lover! It destroyed their home!

"Carl!" Rick said, walking over to his son. "Carl!"

The father wrapped his arms over his son's slender body, causing him to burst into tears. Memories of his sister giggling and laughing and playing flashed through his mind. He would no longer see her play with cups, sleep in Beth's arms, being rocked when she cried, giggling and laughing when someone made her laugh, but most of all...he would never see her grow up into a strong women.

Rick and Carl cried in each other's arms before pulling away from the embrace. Blood and tears were staining their dirty faces. They've lost everything they worked so hard for. They lost everyone they loved.

"We have to go." Rick sobbed. "We have to go."

Carl helped his father walk as they walked away from the baby seat Judith once laid in, crying.

Wilmur couldn't manage to kill any walkers. He'd either fall with them or the walker would knock him down. His shoes soaked in the crimson blood resting against the concrete. Dead bodies laid everywhere. He almost tripped over each one of them from the aching pain in his legs and the blurry vision from being punched in the face too much.

"D-D-Daryl." Wilmur choked out as soon as he saw him.

His adoptive father turned around, relief filling his eyes. He embraced his adoptive son before shooting another walker down behind them. Beth ran up behind them with a machine gun in her hands. Relief filled her eyes as soon as she saw Daryl and Wilmur.

"I was trying to find the kids to get them on the bus." She said. But it was too late. The bus left a long time ago.

"We have to-we have to go." Wilmur sobbed, still upset over leaving Carl.

They nodded and they took off running out of the prison and into the dangerous woods, smoke following them as they ran into the danger zone. Wilmur stopped running when they reached a hill to look back at the burning and destroyed prison. His home was gone. His lover wasn't by his side anymore.

His lover was out in the woods somewhere where all the danger lays. Soon, he would start to starve and get cold. Surviving would be hard for him, for all of them. But no matter how hard surviving got, no matter how much sadness and grief they run across, he will find Carl.

"I'll find you." 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Inseperable Rocks

The older women creaked open the door to find the man with the beard asleep on the couch with his hand draped over his stomach. On the coffee table laid a picture with a pretty blonde woman with the man standing beside her. In front of them were two children. One was a little girl who had brown hair and another was a boy who had black hair.

As soon as she took another step to see the picture better, the man stirred awake. He grunted and grabbed the picture, tucking it under one of the pillows on the couch.

The woman sighed as she stared at the man with a brown bag in her hand which had supplies he needed, holding it up to him. "Couple things for the road."

" I'm okay." The man rejected.

"You helped us." The women said before throwing the bag at him. "We're saying thank you. Deal with it."

The man sighed as he took the bag while looking down at the picture of his wife and two children who he missed very much. He lost his wife before the apocalypse happened. When it did, his daughter died. Nine or ten months later, he lost his son, unknowing what happened to him.

The woman sighed and pulled out the man's gun which her younger sister took from him. "I guess you'll be needing this back."

"Keep it." The man replied, sighing when the women attempted to throw it at him. "Don't...throw that at me."

The woman shook her head. "It's your gun. You can have it back."

"You need another one." The man rejected again, pulling out another gun from his pocket. "I have this."

The woman scoffed. "My sister was right. We should've frisked you."

The man shook his head. "I found it upstairs. You keep that."

The woman attempted to argue again, but decided against. She tucked the pistol in her pocket as she watched the man walk away from the couch and put his belt on which was filled with knives.

"You have to kill the brain." The man said, meaning a walker.

"What?" The woman said confusedly.

"Your sister, she shot 'em in the body, but you have to hit 'em here." The man replied, pointing at his forehead. "That's what kills them."

The woman furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"

The man shrugged and walked toward the bathroom to clean himself off a little, but the woman stopped him. "I need to ask you something. My dad's got stage four lung cancer. I worked oncology for a few years. He's...nearing the end. He's got about two days left of oxygen. Maybe less."

The man sighed as her words reminded him of his wife. When she was in the hospital after she was in a car accident, she could barely breathe due to how injured she was. He knew how the woman felt.

"We never thought he'd make it this long." The woman sighed. "You've already done so much for us, but...there's an old folks home a couple of blocks from here. Even one tank would mean everything. He's the only one who can put a smile on my daughter's face. Even for a second."

The man sighed as he looked back at the woman, nodding.

Carl walked down the road fast in rage with an angry look on his face and a glare in his blue eyes. He lost the prison, his sister, his lover, a man who saved his life when he got shot. He's lost everything he worked so hard for and everyone he cared about. He's worked so hard to protect everyone in the prison, and now they're all gone...because of his father.

If Rick hadn't been focused on farming and harvesting food so much, they would've seen the Governor coming. If Rick had been protecting everyone, they wouldn't have been so weak. If Rick would've done something when he was talking to the Governor, Hershel wouldn't have died, Judith wouldn't have died, and he wouldn't have been separated from Wilmur!

Everything was Rick's fault! He was the reason why they were so weak! It was him that made them lose everything and everyone from the prison! It was his fault Judith died and Wilmur and everyone else was separated from them!

His fists tightened and growls threatened to ripple past his lips. He smashed his lips closed to keep the growls from escaping. He picked up his pace so it'd be hard for Rick to keep up.

"Carl, slow down."

The young teen ignored his father and walked faster, his grip on the rock Wilmur gave him in his left hand tightening in rage.

"Carl, stop!" Rick yelled, forcing the teen to stop his tracks. "We-we need to stay together. We gotta find a place with food, supplies."

Rick catched up to his son and stood beside him, noticing the rejection Carl was giving him. His son was emotionally hurt. He just lost his baby sister, and he was separated from his boyfriend. He lost one of the two people he cared and loved more than anyone else on the planet, but he still had his father.

"Hey." Rick said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna be-"

Rick is cut off by the death glare his son gave him. He understood why his son was angry with him. All he managed to do cause the loss of the prison, the death of Hershel and their group, the death of Judith, and the separation of Wilmur. Everything and everyone was gone because of him.

Carl shrugged away Rick's hand and continued walking ahead of them with Rick limping behind on his sprained feet, his almost broken legs, and his broken ribcages. His muscles and bones throbbed as he desperately tried to keep up with his angry and frustrated son.

The hurt father and the angry son walked along the road, following it to wherever it would take them. Both of their legs were trembling from the amount of running they did at the prison. Both of their eyes screamed exhaustion and both of their legs threatened to give out.

Just as Rick was about to fall again, they came across a store with fallen motorcycles laying everywhere. Carl grunted in frustration and pulled his pistol out of his holster, pointing it toward the store. He stood behind his father as he opened the door, his gun pulled out of his holster as well.

"Wait outside, okay? Keep watch." Rick said with a hoarse voice.

"You keep watch." Carl snapped. "You can barely stand. I'm not gonna let you go in there alone."

Rick tilted his head to the side, giving his son a strict look. "Excuse me?"

"We've done this before. I'm gonna help you clear it." Carl said angrily. "You should just let me do it myself."

The father sighed, slowly lifting his hand toward the doorknob before gently turning it. "Let's go.

The father and son quickly rush inside the store, their pistols held up. In front of them was a bar with ashtrays and empty ketchup bottles. Behind it laid some rotten tacos with molded cheese on it. Flies crowded around the nachos while others were crowded around the ashtrays.

"Kitchen's clear." He heard his father's voice.

Carl walked past his father and into a room with booths and tables. Everything was either knocked over or damaged. Piles of stickers laid on the floor due to the posters which have fallen off the walls. In front of them was stacked up chairs, blocking the walker behind them from getting out. Behind the walker was a shelf filled with food.

"That might be all that's left." Rick said, pointing at the food behind the walker.

Carl aimed his gun toward the walker. "I can get it from here."

"No." Rick replied, pulling out his axe. "No, it's weak. I'll draw it out."

Carl sighed in frustration, walking over to an unfallen table. On it laid a paper the person left before he turned. Carl picked it up and read what was in black marker.

Please do what I couldn't.

The young teen looked at the walker and scoffed, putting the paper back down. The person was a weakling if he couldn't do it himself. He'd rather have someone risk their live to kill him just like Rick. He'd rather risk everybody's life than actually protect them.

"Stay back." Rick warned his son before knocking down the chairs.

The walker stumbled out of his hiding place, snarling and growling as he moved closer to it's prey. Rick quickly smashed his axe in it's head, unable to push it all the way through to the brain. He roared and cursed himself as he desperately tried to push the axe deeper into it's skull, but his fragile arms failed him.

Carl held his gun up to the walker's head, clicking the safety off. His fingers moved closer to the trigger with each shove his father tried to put in the walker's head.

Rick looked back at his son to see his gun raised. "Don't."

The young teen ignored his father and fired a bullet to the walker's head, killing it. It collapsed to the black carpet on the floor with Rick watching I go down angrily before turning to his son and growling at him.

"I said not to!" He yelled.

"You couldn't do it with the axe!" Carl yelled back.

"I had it." Rick argued. "Every bullet counts. What if you needed that one later?"

Carl scoffed, clicking the safety off his gun. His father never gave him a thank you. No matter how many times he's saved his life, Rick never thanked him once. At least Wilmur would. If only he was there to argue with his father...

Rick sighed, his frustration calming down while pulling the axe out of the dead walker's skull. "See what you can find. Then let's move on."

The young teen watched angrily as his father limped to another room, leaving him to get the food on the shelf. He gave his father one last glare before grabbing the food off the shelves. He grabbed the chips off the shelf and set it on the counter before doing the same with the pickle jars. He looked back up on the shelf to check for any more food, only to find piggy banks.

He picked up the chips and pickle jars off the counter before walking back to the unfallen table, stuffing the food in the bag his father had after he stuffed his food and water in.

"Kitchen wasn't empty after all." Rick said. "My haul. You?"

"I win." Carl replied, glaring at his father.

The man followed the little girl and older woman to the room where the older woman's younger sister was sitting beside the bed where their father laid dead. He had died from the lack of oxygen due to his cancer. The man had managed to get one tank of oxygen, but nothing else because the walkers were overrunning the building.

"He's gone." The older woman said. "I think he's been gone a while."

The little girl cried into her mother's chest as she looked at her dead grandpa on the bed. She had just lost the one man who was always able to make her smile. The one person who made her feel happy in a sad world.

"Y'all should go now." The man said.

The little girl shook her head against her mother. She didn't want to leave her grandpa. She just lost him.

"Just give us a minute." The older woman said.

The man attempted to argue, but decided against it and let the girls mourn. A tear slipped down the younger woman's cheek as she stared at her dead father.

"I love you, Daddy." The younger woman sobbed.

Suddenly, the old man's eyes flashed opened. Growls slipped out of his throat as snarls past his hungry teeth. It grabbed his younger daughter's hair and yanked her forward, it's teeth chomping closer and closer to her exposed neck.

The man quickly grabbed the empty tank and began smashing it against the walker's head, ignoring the younger woman when she begged him to stop.

"It's not Dad!" The older woman yelled as she held onto her screaming daughter when she attempted to pull the man away.

All three of the girls screamed and cried as they watched the man demolish what used to be their father's head.

Rick and Carl walk down the street with their hands placed over the pistol in their holsters wrapped around their leg. Rick again struggled to keep up with his angry son on the pain in his aching legs. He gripped onto one his broken ribcages as he desperately tried to keep up with his vengeful son.

"Hey." Rick said when he saw a decent house, but he was practically ignored.

The young teen paced faster, clenching the sparkling rock Wilmur gave him in his fist again. It was the only thing he had left of his lover. It was the only thing that kept him from lashing out at his injured father.

"Hey." Rick said again, only to get ignored.

Carl simply ignored his father and clenched to the rock he had in his hand tighter. He could remember how much Wilmur argued with Rick, and now he understood why. He wished for him to be here so he could arguing with Rick right now. He mourned so badly to hear Wilmur's voice.

"Hey." Rick said one last time, forcing his son to stop in front of the decent house. The teen turned his head to glare at his father angrily. Rick simply ignored it and pointed to the house. "That one's as good as any."

The young teen scoffed and shook his head as he followed his father to the porch, letting him open the door with their pistols out of their holsters. Rick wisely shut the door and went to the right side of the house while his son went to the left. Carl walked beside the stairs, his gun held up.

Rick stood at the other side of the house, looking at his son who was heading straight into danger. "Carl."

"I got it." He snapped. "All the doors down here are opened."

Rick shook his head frustratedly. "Just stop!"

Carl scoffed and lowered his gun, turning back around to glare at his father with rage. He ignored his father strict look and slammed his arm against the wall in rage.

"Hey, asshole!" Carl yelled in rage. "Hey shitface! Hey ass-"

"Watch your mouth!" Rick yelled, but immiedently regretted saying the most dumbest thing in the destroyed world.

Carl scoffed and glared at his father. "Are you kidding me? If there was one of them down there, they would've come out."

The father failed to give his son a stern glare. Instead, he received an angry and vengeful glare from his own son. He could see his son's fists clenching so tightly, his palm was turning purple. He watched as his son walked to another open room, putting himself in danger again. He had to find some way to get his son to listen. If he doesn't, Carl could die. He promised Wilmur he would protect Carl at all costs. How could he do that if his son wasn't listening to him?

While Rick walked into the kitchen, Carl fled upstairs which had all bedroom doors opened. He walked in a bedroom that was filled with books and video games. He missed playing them so much. He wishes so badly to have his bare hands on a controller again, looking at the TV as his fingers run all over the controller to control the video game.

He chuckled as he stared at the video games laying on the table, resting beside the clean TV. However, as soon as he looked at the reflection of himself in the TV, reality shoved the smile off his lips. He scoffed and knocked down the video games, unhooking the wires from the TV to use to tie the door shut downstairs.

When night fallen, he tied the doorknob with the wires clove hitch style. It was a knot Shane taught him when he was still alive. Even though he tried to kill his father, he still missed him very much. He taught him how to survive and was always able to put a smile on his lips. But he changed the one night he tried to kill his father, his own best friend.

Rick pushed a couch against the door, grunting from the pain in his legs and ribcages.

Carl scoffed in annoyance. "I tied the door shut."

"We don't need to take any chances." Rick replied, continuing to push the couch forward.

"You don't think it'll hold?"  
"Carl-"  
"It's a strong knot!"

The young teen scoffed as he watched his father's injured and strict look. It angered him that his father didn't trust him took look after himself. He didn't even teach him anything. Only Shane and Wilmur did.

"Clove hitch." Carl said. "Shane taught me. Remember him?"

Memories of Shane flashed by Rick's mind from when they were in high school and all the way to the beginning of the apocalypse. He remembered how he got Lori and Carl to safety, but he also tried to steal them from him as well as Judith. In the end, he tried to kill him because he loved Lori and wanted to be with her, leaving Rick no choice but to kill him.

However, Carl didn't see it like that. He had no idea Lori and Shane hooked up when they thought Rick was dead. Shane had told him he died in his coma in the hospital, but he had no idea his mother hooked up with Shane. He didn't know Shane tried to kill his father because he wanted Lori. The only story he got was Shane tried to kill Rick and that was all.

It was like Wilmur. When Rick kicked him out of the prison because they figured out he was the Governor's son, the only story he got was because he was the Governor's son. The difference between Wilmur and Shane was that there was a story with Shane, but no story with Wilmur.

"Yeah, I remember him. I remember him everyday." Rick said. "There something else you want to say to me?"

Carl decided against arguing and helped his father push the couch against the door and flip it over so someone could lay on it. Rick wheezed as he pushed himself off the arm of the couch.

"This'll have to do for the night." Rick said, grabbing the bag of chips out of the bag filled with food and handing it to his son.

"You gonna have some?" Carl asked

Rick shook his head. "You should eat."

"We should save it." Carl argued, moving blankets off the couch and settling it against the mattress he would sleep on for the night.

Rick sighed and pushed himself off the couch, following his son over to the mattress with the bag of chips in his sprained or possibly broken hand.

"Hey." Rick said, holding the bag of chips up to his son.

Carl scoffed. "I don't want any."

"I promised Wilmur I would take care of you." Rick said, throwing the chips on the ground. "So eat it. Now."

The young teen scoffed as he watched his father limp out of the room wheezing through his injuries. He hated it when someone brought his boyfriend into the conversation to force him to listen. It was like Wilmur was a bargaining chip and he wasn't. If Rick hadn't caused Wilmur to separate from him, he wouldn't be a bargaining chip. Nor would Judith or Hershel be dead. Nor they would lose the prison!

Flashes of Wilmur and Judith flooded his depressed and angry mind. They were laughing on sparkling river rocks. Wilmur was holding Judith as he gave her funny faces that made them both laugh. Then suddenly, Rick and the Governor destroyed the sparkles and the rocks, separating Wilmur from him and killing Judith.

Growls rippled from his chest as he clenched his fists again. Rage and anger filled his blue eyes as he pictured Rick and the Governor at the fences again. And then suddenly Hershel dies, walkers fill the prison fields, the prison gets destroyed, Wilmur gets separated from him, and Judith dies. The prison and everyone who lived in it was gone.

With rage, he grabbed the chips and shoved it back in the bag before snuggling into the mattress. He glared at his father when he came back in the room and threw a blanket over him. He kicked the blanket off him and closed his eyes.

The Governor smirked as he slashed off Hershel's head with Michonne's sword. Blood splattered all over Carl and Wilmur and colored their cloths crimson red. He screamed as he watched the Governor send Michonne's sword through Judith's stomach, suffocating her. Tears streamed down Judith's baby cheeks and turned red as she screamed and cried in pain.

Wilmur wrapped his arms around him and held him close, burying his face in his hair while Carl buried his face in his neck, crying and screaming into it as they watched the Governor drop Judith to the hard concrete while Rick just watched plainly. Judith smashed her head against the concrete, breaking her skull.

However, somehow, she was still alive. Even when the ground blew into flames, creating dark black smoke and a burning fire explosion. Judith screamed and cried as her body caught the fire, burning her.

Carl collapsed on his knees and screamed and cried. "My baby sister!"

Wilmur unwrapped his strong arms around Carl's slender body and took off running after Judith. However, it was hopeless for him to save her. The fire was burning her to death and Michonne's sword was still sticking through her stomach, tearing it open. If Wilmur tried to save her, he would burn in the fire as well.

Carl screamed and cried, begging for his lover to come back to him. However, Wilmur ignored him and ran after his baby sister. He disappeared into the thick, black smoke, leaving him alone forever. Carl screamed and cried more louder than he ever did in his entire life. His whole body collapsed to the ground as he realized Judith and Wilmur was gone forever.

He lifted his teary face off the blood-filled concrete to see his father standing in the smoke. He screamed as he cried in anger and rage as he stared at his father.

Carl shot up from the mattress, screaming and crying and sweating off cold sweat. Tears spilled from his eyes like a water fall and poured down his cheeks like a rushing river. Sobs slipped from his throat as the night terror hit him. He was surprised he didn't wake Rick up. If Wilmur was there, warm arms would be wrapped around him and a palm would be rubbing his back. Kisses would be landing against his neck, cheeks, and lips.

Reality smashed him hard when he realized Wilmur's arms weren't there to comfort him. He wasn't there because of Rick. Because Rick let the Governor destroy the prison.

Realizing Wilmur's lips and fingers weren't there to brush the tears away, he wiped the tears away himself while sobs escaped his throat. He looked at his father on the couch who was surprisingly still sleeping. He sobbed as he pushed himself off the mattress and picked up his holster from the table, wrapping it around his leg again.

He picked up a bag of cereal out of the food bag and went to the kitchen, still crying from the night terror. He hasn't had a night terror in a long time. They were all healed when Wilmur was sleeping with him. Now that Wilmur wasn't there, he couldn't comfort him from the night terror.

The young teen grabbed two bowls from the cabinets and poured the cereal in one bowl, sighing when he did the same for the other one which was for his father. He took his bowl upstairs to the cool bedroom he saw yesterday and ate in there, reading a book so he could forget about the night terror.

After he was more than half way through the book and his father still hasn't woken up, he put it down and took the bowl back downstairs. He stopped when he noticed his sleeping father on the couch.

"Dad?" Carl said, walking in the room where they slept.

The father laid still, his hand draped over his stomach as he slept.

"Dad?" Carl said again, kicking his foot but it didn't wake him. He stood on his knees and shook his father. "Dad, wake up."

Rick still didn't budge.

Carl sighed and put his bowl and spoon down, shaking his unconscious father. "Wake up. Come on." He said in annoyance before shaking him harder and harder when his father still didn't move. "Dad, wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"

Suddenly, walkers begin banging on the door. He stood up with his hand on his holster as he backed away from the door. He scoffed, rubbing his eyes to wipe all the tears away before grabbing his sheriff hat and placing it on his head. He walked out the back door and went to the front porch where the two walkers were banging on the door.

He looked behind him to make sure no one was nearby before looking back at the walkers. "Hey, you!"

The two walkers turned around, growling and snarling when they saw the young teen.

"Fresh meat right here. Come and get it." Carl lured them.

The walkers stumbled off the porch and followed him, their hands reaching out toward him as they reached for it's fresh prey. Carl walked backwards as the walkers followed him, his pistol held in his hand.

"Let's take a walk." He said, walking backwards and smiling. "Keep up."

The two walkers stepped closer, growling and snarling louder as their sloppy steps grew closer and closer to Carl. Their arms reached out further as their mouth chomped.

Carl led them to the road, still walking backwards while smiling and smirking. "Keep coming...very good."

He looked behind him to watch where he was going, making sure there was no objects that could cause him to trip or any human or walker in the distance.

"Come on." Carl said, still smiling. "Right here, look at me."

The boy walker growled louder and reached out for the young teen, his eyes widening at the fresh flesh Carl had on his skin. The woman walker paced faster with it's arms reached all the way out, reaching for his flesh.

"Come on. That's it." Carl said, leading them near another house. "Just a little further."

He led them behind the trees. "Come on."

Suddenly, another walker appeared from behind him, sneaking up on him. He turned around when he noticed the extra steps and his eyes widened as he looked at the three walkers surrounding him.

"Oh, shit." He whispered.

He launched himself at the third walker, only for it to grab his shoulders and shove him against the other two walkers. They pushed him to the ground, walking closer and closer to the fresh flesh on the ground. Carl panicked and tried to crawl away from the walkers, but one of them nearly fell on him. He kicked it off and shot a bullet through the woman walker's head, causing it to collapse on him.

The other walker climbed on top of him, but he sent a bullet through it's head, leaving it to collapse on him. He tried to push the other to walkers off him as the third one climbed on top of him. It took three bullets for him to kill the last one.

He panted and sighed with relief as he realized he killed all three of the walkers, nearly getting eaten in the process. He grunted as he pushed himself out from underneath all three of the heavy walkers. His hat fell off his head when he bent to the ground and puked up the cereal he ate.

After puking, he picked up his hat from the ground and placed it on top of his head.

"I win." He said before walking back to the street.

Nothing and no one was on the street except him, the leafs, and the quietness. Birds chirped in the trees and woodpeckers nibbled against the bark on the trees.

"Cool." Carl smirked before walking back down to the house.

The birds on the trees and power lines watched as he walked back to the house. The squirrels nibble on the acorns which were dropped from the green trees. The nature echo's in his ears just like it did when he was with Hershel outside the administration building of the prison.

The young teen immiedently stopped smiling as soon as he walked back in the house where his unconscious father laid. He took of his blue flannel, leaving him in his white shirt with blue sleeves.

"I killed three walkers." Carl said. "They were at the door. They were gonna get in, but...I lured them away."

He scoffed as he stared at his father's unconscious body. If Rick couldn't hear them right now, then he had time to lash out on him just like Wilmur did at the prison.

"I killed them." He said angrily. "I saved you! I saved you!"

But it didn't matter whether he saved him or not. Rick didn't care. He never even gave him a simple and plain thank you no matter how many times he saved his life. He saved him when Shane tried to kill him. He saved him when Hershel's farm was burning down. He saved him at the prison when Woodbury was attacking by killing that strange boy in the woods. He saved him from the Governor when the prison was getting destroyed, and he's just now saved him from getting eaten by walkers. Not once did he receive a simple thank you.

Carl scoffed. "I didn't forget while you had us playing farmer. I still know how to survive...lucky for us."

Rick made himself weak when he forced himself and his son to farm. He never bothered to actually look after the prison. He wouldn't let Carl when he wanted to. Daryl and Wilmur and councilor team had to look after it for them. But Carl still knew how to survive. He wasn't just focused on trying to be a kid or farmer in the prison.

He scoffed again, shaking his head. "I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to protect me anymore. I can take care of myself. You probably can't even protect me anyways! You couldn't protect Judith! You couldn't protect-"

Carl stopped himself from yelling to keep the walkers from banging on the door again. He scoffed as he remembered everyone Rick failed.

"Hershel or Wilmur or Glenn or Maggie. Michonne, Daryl, or Mom."

Because of Rick, Hershel got killed. Because of Rick, Wilmur got separated from him. It was his fault Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Daryl's fates were unknown. It was his fault his mother died in a horrible way. Everything was his fault! Wilmur had told Rick to keep him safe, but he chose the wrong person.

All Rick managed to do was get people killed and get things destroyed. He caused walkers to overrun the Atlanta camp. He caused the walkers to overrun the farm. He caused the prison and everyone in it to die and get separated from each other!

"You just wanted to plant vegetables." Carl scoffed. "You just wanted to hide! He knew where we were and you didn't care!"

Carl lashed and yelled at his father angrily, not caring if any walker or human could hear it now. "You just hid behind those fences and waited for-"

The young teen shook his head and scoffed as he pictured Hershel's death, Judith's blood in her baby seat, and Wilmur's separation. "They're all gone now. Because of you! They counted on you! You were they're leader!"

He scoffed as he noticed his father was still unconscious and sat down, his face buried in his knees with tears slipping from his eyes as he thought of everyone's fates and unknown fates. Each of them died or separated all because of his father.

"But now...you're nothing."

Tears soaked into his pants as he pictured everyone he loved dying because of Rick. Ever since Lori died, he never needed to be the leader. He started not caring for the group, and he understood why Wilmur argued with him so much.

Wilmur...

Carl sniffled and wiped the tears away from his cheeks, standing up and dumping all the food out of the food bag. He stepped forward and refused to look after his father's unconscious body.

"I'm going out to fucking find Wilmur."

The young teen stormed out of the house angrily with the food bag wrapped around his shoulder just in case he found any food. He walked down the leafy streets of the neighborhood, clutching the rock Wilmur gave him in his hand.

Wilmur couldn't have gone far. Rick and him didn't. They were far too tired and Rick was far too injured and so was Wilmur. In his condition, Wilmur wouldn't even be able to make it a mile. Maybe he was searching for him right now as well. They could run into each other.

Carl checked and searched almost every house on the street, and it was hopeless. Wilmur wasn't in any of them. Not even a clue was left by him and he didn't understand why. Wilmur would surely have to rest up in a house...unless he escaped in the woods and couldn't make his way back to the street.

Just as he was about to head for the woods, he noticed a decent house that could be filled with food. He sighed as he stood on it's sidewalk and noticed the door was locked. He smirked when he pictured himself busting open the door just like all the men in his group did. He smiled and picked up a light dug into the ground just in case he couldn't bust it open.

The young teen smiled as he looked at the door and smashed his body against it, only to get smashed right back on the porch. His torch and heart-shaped rock fell out of his hand as he laid on the porch.

"Damn it." He mummered and pushed himself off the ground, grabbing the torch and rock before placing his hat back on his head.

Instead of trying to bust the door open again, he pushed the torch inside the door and broke the lock. He held his gun up while walking in the kitchen, but lowered it when he realized no one was in there. He walked over to the cabinets and pulled out all of the canned food and stuffed it in the bag.

When he looked up to notice a big jar of chocolate pudding was laying on top of the cabinets, he smirked. He pulled up a stool to the counter and stood on it, grabbing the chocolate pudding.

It's been a while.

He smirked and traveled upstairs, leaving the chocolate pudding and bag filled with food downstairs. He held his torch in his hand as he slowly climbed up the stairs, opening one of the doors to see a dead bird laying on the ground, making him furrow his eyebrows.

Someone's in here.

Instead of searching the room, he shut the door quietly and did the same with the next door on the other wall. Slowly, he walked over to the next door to find it closed. As slow as he could, he quietly creaked it open. Only to receive a walker smashing against the door.

He panicked and shoved against the door on the other side while the walker did the same. He roared and grunted as he pushed against it, desperately trying to shut it over the strong force against the walker. He smashed on it too hard, cracking the walker's arm open to see a bone pop out.

Instead of continuing to try and shut the door, he opened it and let the walker through. Just as he was about to fire two bullets in the walker's brains, he fell to the floor, firing the two bullets by an accident. He crawled away from the walker and fired another bullet but missed it's head again and got his shoulder, making it collapse to the floor.

He pulled the trigger again, but he was all out of bullets. When he tried to crawl away again, the walker grabbed his foot. He began kicking the walker desperately, but couldn't knock it down. Finally, he kicked it hard in the shoulder before doing the same thing to it's face, knocking it down.

He rushed in bedroom and tried to shut the door, but the walker pushed against the door again. Instead of fighting it, he sprinted to the window and tried to open it, but couldn't do it fully. He grabbed a lamp from the dresser and smashed it against the walker's head, but the lamp was too soft to kill it.

The walker grabbed him and collapsed to the floor with him collapsing with it. When he tried to crawl away, the walker grabbed it's foot and chopped his teeth very near it. Carl couldn't help but cry out when he couldn't pull away, wishing Rick or Wilmur was there to save him.

Finally, he managed to pull away with his shoe getting yanked off and run out of the bedroom in time, slamming the door shut. He rested against the door as the walker pounded on the other side. He grabbed a piece of chalk from the floor and began writing on the door. Before dropping the chalk to the floor, he laughed at the joke.

Walker inside got my shoe didn't get me.

Carl smiled as he ate his chocolate pudding on the roof, thinking of Wilmur and Judith. Judith would have chocolate pudding smeared all over her cheeks if she was there and Wilmur would be laughing at both of them. After eating more than half of the pudding, he climbed down the roof and grabbed the food bag before heading back to the house just before night fell.

He put down the food bag and glared at his father before setting down next to the couch, resting his head against it before closing his eyes and falling into a nightmare.

"Where should we go?" Asked the younger woman.

They were inside a truck and leaving the dark and dangerous apartment. The man was driving the truck and the younger woman was sitting in the front with him. The older woman and her daughter were sitting in the back snuggling together.

"No use making a plan." The man replied. "We'll go where they let us."

"Who's they?" The younger woman asked.

The man smiled, his beard cleanly shaven. "The roads. The biters."

The younger woman sighed and leaned her head against the seat. "I'm not really a cop. I mean, it's not a total lie. I was in the academy. I'm sorry I lied to you."

The man shook his head and smiled. "You don't have to be sorry."

"Well, I am." The younger woman replied, sighing. "Do you think we can make it?"

The man nodded. "We'll make it."

"Are you lying to me?" The younger woman smiled.

The man shook his head. "No."

Carl stirred awake from another nightmare, but he was lucky it wasn't as bad as the last one. A few tears slipped down his cheeks as he lifted his head up and looked around the room. It was still dark out. The nightmare probably woke him up sometime in the middle of the night.

He sighed and looked at his unconscious father, glaring at him angrily. However, the glare turned into a shocked look as soon as his father's hand moved and snarls and growls slipped out of his throat. He gasped and quickly backed away from the couch and to the table.

What used to be his father lifted his head and his hand reached out toward Carl. The young teen gasped and quickly pulled his gun out of his holster, pointing it toward him and clicking the safety off.

This is what he's been waiting for all along. To be separated from his father forever and ever so he wouldn't have to be near the man who caused the prison's fall, but now he's realized that's not true. None of it was. He needed his father, and it wasn't his fault the prison fell.

The father fell off the couch as he slowly crawled toward Carl, his hand reaching out toward the flesh. Now Carl's realized what he's done. He's blamed his father for everything and it wasn't his fault. All along, he needed his father to survive. Not just physically survive but emotionally as well.

And now he's never, ever going to see him again. He's gone and there's nothing he could do about it. He'll never hear his voice, never look him in the eyes, never be overprotective over him, but most of all...he'll never love him again.

Tears slipped down Carl's cheek as the thoughts sunk into his regretful and depressed head. He had no one left. His father was gone, his mother was gone, his baby sister was gone, and his boyfriend was gone. Even though Wilmur is alive, Carl can't go on. He wasn't there because he was separated from him. He can't go on.

Carl sobbed and dropped the gun, crying in agony. Tears slipped down his rosy cheeks as he closed his eyes and looked away from his father, sobbing and crying.

"I can't." He sniffled. "I was wrong."

The young teen moved his hair away from his neck and moved it for Rick to bite into. "Just do it."

I can't be without you.

"Carl." Rick said in a raspy and wheezing breath.

The young teen looked back at his father, relief filling his teary eyes and tears of joy slipping slowly down his cheeks. His father was alive. He hadn't left him alone unlike everyone else.

Daddy...

"Don't go outside. Stay safe." Rick gasped as he collapsed to the floor, passing out again.

Tears of joy burst out of Carl's eyes as he scrambled to his father and placed his head in his lap, looking him in the closed eyes. He gently rubbed his neck with his thumb as tears of joy and fear of losing his father, the last person he has left, drip on his face.

"I'm scared." He whispered the words he hasn't said since the apocalypse started.

He sniffled and laid his forehead against his father's, crying into it and whispered the same words in it.

"I'm scared...I'm scared...I'm scared." Each word growing quieter each time.

Gently, he placed a kiss against his father's sweating forehead and dragged him to the couch, his head still in his lap. Carl rested his head against the couch again with his father sleeping in his lap.

The man, the older woman, and the younger woman sat by the warm fire. The little girl sat on the truck, too scared to leave it. The older woman looked behind her to see her scared daughter.

"You can come join us." The older woman smiled.

The little girl ignored her mother, picking at her dirty fingernails. The mother sighed and looked up at the man.

"It's just gonna take some time." The mother said.

The man shook his head. "It's okay. It was like that with my son."

The mother looked up at the man with curiousness. "What do you mean?"

"After the world turned upside down, my son turned upside down with it. He wasn't himself. He became rude and mean to the nice and innocent people. He didn't care about anyone. Didn't give a shit if somebody died." The man replied.

"What happened to him?" The younger woman asked.

The man shrugged. "One day, he did care about somebody. It was a bad and terrible person though. He came back around which should be a good thing but it wasn't. He got lot's of innocent women and children killed because of it. He even tried to kill me once because I warned him about the boy he fell in love with. Then...he left me and went to live with the boy. You don't know how many people in the town died because of it."

Both of them woman gasped, hands covered over their lips.

"I'm sorry to hear that." The older woman said. "Do you still love your son?"

"Of course I do." The man replied. "I'm just disappointed him."

"What about him?" The younger woman asked. "Is he still alive?"

The man shrugged. "I don't know."

Carl immiedently stirred awake when Rick awoke. He looked at him with tears in his eyes to see his father awake and pulling his head off his lap. His blue eyes weren't red anymore and some of his injuries have healed from the amount of sleep he got.

"Take it easy." Carl said, his voice cracked. "Are you okay?"

"No." The father replied. "It's my fault the prison is gone."

Carl sighed and held his father's hands, stroking them gently. He made his father feel like it was his fault and it wasn't. He deserved to be yelled at and punished for blaming and yelling at his father.

"No, Dad...It's not your fault. I should've have not blamed you. I know you did all you could do to protect the prison. I should've accepted that. I'm so, so sorry. Just yell at me."

Rick shook his head when he heard what his son said. "No, no, no. Don't be sorry. You were right. I would've blamed myself even if you didn't blame at me. I wasn't mad that you were blaming me. I was mad 'cause you wouldn't listen to me."

"But I blamed you." Carl said sadly. "And it wasn't your fault."

"You were just upset, Carl. You lost Wilmur. I know how you feel."

Carl sighed, looking away from his father when tears filled his eyes. "I just...hate the Governor for what he's done to his own son. First, he abuses him. Then he separates him from someone he loves?"

Rick wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder, pulling him in a hug. "Wilmur will find you Carl. Trust me. I know. He never breaks his promises."

"But what if he dies?"

Rick shook his head. "Believe me. Wilmur is one tough son of a bitch. Especially when it comes to you. I know he'll find you."

Carl sighed. "Well, I know he's not nearby. I went out looking for him and couldn't find a single clue."

The father sighed and unwrapped his arm around his son, looking down at the food. "Should've rested. Going out there like that. It's dangerous."

"I was careful." Carl replied.

Rick nodded. "It's good that you found more food."

"I found even more." Carl replied. "But...I ate it."

"What was it?" Rick asked.

Carl smirked, chuckling. "A hundred and twelve ounces of pudding."

Rick chuckled. He knew his son loved pudding. Every year on Carl's birthday, before the apocalypse, him and Lori would give him pounds of chocolate pudding and Carl loved it every year. He wondered how old Carl was now. Thirteen? Fourteen? He couldn't be any older than fourteen.

"I know..." Rick said. "We'll never get things back to the way they used to be."

"What?" Carl said.

"I only clung to that for you. For Judith. Now she's...gone."

Carl thought of his sister as turning into a beautiful and strong woman. But now she's gone, and they'll never get to see her grow up. Never get to see what she looks like when she got older.

"And you..." Rick said. "You're a man, Carl. You're a man...I'm sorry."

Carl shook his head. "You don't need to be."

The young teen watched as his father drank up the water in his water bottle. All along, he's treated him so badly and then he almost died. Rick was the only one Carl had left for now until Wilmur finds him. He loved his father very much and would do anything to protect him, just like he protected Wilmur.

A knock on the door made Rick and Carl both flinch. They quickly stood up with their guns held in their hands. Rick looked through the small hole on the door to see who's the bad and terrible and disgusting person.

However, it wasn't a bad person.

It was Michonne. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Crystal Rocks

Wilmur ran alongside Beth. Her arm was wrapped around his injured waist to keep him from falling. Daryl was just ahead of them, protecting the walkers from them. Blood was creating a path with each stumbling step Wilmur was taking. His legs and ankles were aching as he sprinted. One of his arms were wrapped around his broken ribcages as he puked out blood. Both of his sprained or broken arms were in severing pain and his blurring vision was slowly starting to fade.

A walker suddenly jumped on him, knocking him to the branchy ground. The walker snarled and jumped on him as his teeth chomped right in front of his bruised face. His broken hands fought against it and pressed against it's throat, squeezing it. Two of his fingers broke from fighting against it with his broke hands just before Daryl sent a bow through it's head.

Beth quickly helped Wilmur up and wrapped her arm around him again, shoving him forward. Wilmur struggled to keep up with Beth's sprinting legs, but she kept shoving him forward even though it was severely hurting him. Daryl stayed behind them and fought against the walkers while Beth and Wilmur ran.

They ran in a field with tall grass with walkers just behind them. Wilmur's blood printed against the tall green grass as he was shoved through them. He gripped onto Beth's waist to keep his legs from giving out. His blurred vision was fading more and more with each painful step he ran.

But he couldn't pass out yet. He had to find Carl before he can even rest. He didn't care how much pain he was in, he just needed to find his younger lover. He needed to find him and keep him safe before anything could happen to him at all.

It didn't matter how much pain he was in. It didn't matter how much walkers are around. What mattered was that he had to find his lover before he could do anything else at all. He couldn't eat, he couldn't rest, he couldn't sleep before he finds him.

However, he couldn't even make it to the end of the field before his vision completely faded to black.

The man ran through the field with the little girl in his arms. She was crying into his neck as she held on tightly. Walkers were chasing them down, and the little girl was frightened. She had never fought walkers before despite how much she was around them. She couldn't trust to run with her mother and aunt. She trusted the man more than she trusted anyone. After all, he was stronger than any of them.

Suddenly, they fell through a hole with walkers filled in it. The little girl screamed and ran to the corner as the man started to kill them. He shoved them against the hole's wall while the little girl cried in the corner, hugging her stuffed animal. She screamed and cried when one of the walkers stumbled toward her, but the man killed it before it could tear into her flesh.

The man sunk his fingers into the walker's throat and yanked them out before doing the same to the next walker while another one crawled toward the little girl. She screamed just before the man broke it's jaw with a bone.

The little girl looked the man in the eyes with relief in hers. She held her arms out to the man as he took her in his arms.

"I'm sorry. You okay?" He panted as he looked in the scared little girl's eyes. "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you. Okay?"

He held the little girl and hugged herm stroking her hair. She cried into his neck again as she tightly clinged to him.

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

She sobbed and buried her face back in his neck as another man looked down in the hole with a machine gun in his hands. He lowered it as soon as he recognized the man.

"Holy shit."

Wilmur stirred awake and realized he was laying beside Beth with a fire lit in front of him. Daryl was hiding behind it as he gathered close to it for warmth. As soon as reality hit him, all the pain and grief smashed him and shattered his heart like how somehow threw a pane ball at a glass pane window and broke it.

He could hear Beth and Daryl's conversation echo in his ears as he began squirming for his knife. He began hyperovulating as he desperately scrambled for his knife.

Beth immediately stopped her conversation with Daryl when she realized the panicking state Wilmur was in. She quickly wrapped her arms around him to stop his squirming but he only fought back.

"C-Carl! I have to find Carl!" He panicked as his fingers yanked his knife into his broken hand.

Beth only tightened his grip on him. "You have to rest."

"No, I have to find Carl!" He argued with his short breath.

"Wilmur, you can't go there in your condition. You wouldn't make it five minutes."

The young teen growled and winced as he yanked away from Beth's grip. He pushed himself off the ground but only collapsed again. Luckily, Beth's arms were ready to catch him before his injured head could hit the hard, branchy ground. He gripped onto his broken ribcages as it screeched in pain.

His vision was blurring and fading all over again but he shoved the pain away and tried to push himself up again. However, Beth gently laid him down again.

"You need to rest if you're goin' to do anything or you'll never heal."

Wilmur shook his head. "B-but Carl-"

"Carl can wait." Beth interrupted.

Wilmur glared. "No, he can't."

"Carl can handle himself, remember? You can't right now. If you're going to find Carl then you have to rest."

Daryl grunted. "How do you even know if he's alive.

"He is." Wilmur replied. "I saw him escape with Rick. I was even with them but I ran off to find you."

Beth looked back at Daryl. "See? There are survivors. We have to look for them tomorrow."

"You-you go tomorrow. I'm leaving at sunrise to look for them."

"Wilmur-" Beth's interrupted.

"No!" Wilmur yelled. "I'm not leaving my boyfriend out there! Period!"

Beth sighed and leaned back against the log, digging her hand on the dead leafs laying below the branches on the ground. Her eyes darted to Wilmur who had nothing but bruises and injures all over his body. Both of his eyes were black eyes. His wrists were either broken or sprained as well as his hands and ankles. Two of his fingers on the same hand were broken as well as his ribcages.

Wilmur would need all the rest and sleep he could get. He wouldn't be hiking five minutes in the morning and afternoon's heat before passing out again. He couldn't walk by himself or he'd fall to the ground. He wasn't even strong enough to fight against a walker! If he didn't rest, then he would surely die.

"Wilmur, if you don't get the proper rest, you'll die." Beth said.

The young teen grunted in frustration and attempted to argue, but decided against it because of the pain. He laid back down with his hand gripping his knife in his belt. As soon as he closed his eyes, he fell asleep.

Beth opened her eyes to greet the bright sunlight shining through the green trees. She looked at Daryl who was using a log as a pillow and then to Wilmur who wasn't there. She looked behind her only to find the same trees before looking ahead to find the same thing.

She forced herself to keep calm and crawled over to Daryl, shaking him. "Daryl. Daryl, wake up."

Daryl grunted and fluttered his blue eyes opened, looking up to see Beth. "What?"

"It's Wilmur. He's gone."

Daryl quickly pushed himself up on his elbows to see no trace of Wilmur left. He grabbed his crossbow and walked into the woods with Beth following from behind. No tracks were left by him. Wilmur knew better to cover his tracks so Daryl wouldn't find him.

They walked through a large field before entering the woods again to run across tracks left by children. Daryl bent down to move the leafs out of the way and examined the footprint. Beth stood behind him and examined the footprint as well.

"Could it be Wilmur's?" She asked.

Daryl shook his head. "No. It's too small to be his."

Beth sighed and bent down to get a closer look. "Could be Luke's. Or Molly's. Whoever they are, it means they're alive."

"No." Daryl replied. "It means they were alive four or five hours ago."

"They're alive." Beth argued and continued to look for Wilmur.

Daryl sighed and followed behind her, holding his crossbow up. "You know, we don't know if anyone's alive."

Beth growled and turned around. "Did you even hear what Wilmur said last night?"

"No, 'cause he ran off." Daryl replied.

"Yeah, 'cause you let him."

Daryl growled angrily. "I didn't let him! He ran off when I fell asleep after I told him to keep watch!"

"Well, he didn't need to take watch! He needs all the sleep he can get! But thanks to you, he ran off and he could've passed out anywhere by now!"

Daryl growled again. "You think I wanted him to run of?!"

"He's your son! Control him!" "I can't!"  
"Well, then maybe you shouldn't be his adoptive father!"

Daryl growled and attempted to argue, but decided not to because she was right. He was never able to control his son the way most fathers were able to. He couldn't because Wilmur was always able to handle himself. He didn't need Daryl at all to survive. Who he needed was Carl. He never needed Daryl no matter how close they were.

Beth scoffed and walked ahead of him, following a track until it took them to a bunch of berries laying on the ground which Daryl pointed at.

"They picked up the pace right here." He said. "Got out in a hurry. Things went bad."

Beth scoffed again. "Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith."

"Yeah, faith." Daryl replied. "Faith ain't done shit for us. Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father."

Beth turned around and glared. "If you want to find your son, then have a little bit of faith."

"He ain't my son." Daryl argued. "Not anymore."

Beth sighed and turned around, picking berries off the trees and bushes and putting them in a scarf Daryl gave to her. She placed one berry in her mouth before tying the scarf up. "He'll be hungry when we find him."

Daryl ignored her and walked into a very small field filled with weeds, only to find two dead bodies with walker tracks up and down the trail with no sign of Wilmur.

Wilmur stumbled away from the walkers chasing him down throughout the woods. He's fallen down more than a thousand times, but the thought of his younger lover lost in the woods forced him to get up and keep going. He managed to escape from Daryl and Beth when Daryl told him to keep watch before falling asleep. Even though he knew it would be painful running through the woods, he kept going.

He managed to find two pairs of footprints left by one of the four children in the prison and dead, eaten bodies. But there was no trace of Carl or anyone else besides the sloppy steps the walkers were making. The only thing he could find was the tall trees in the endless forest.

The young teen sighed and bent down to find a few or more footsteps in a wide pile of mud. Up ahead of it were some damp spots from where people stepped. He smiled slightly and followed the tracks, his broken hand on the gun handle in his holster. His other arm was wrapped around one of his painful and broken ribcages as he followed the tracks left by the person.

Another clue was the ground had grape berry juice stained on the leafs and branches. He looked to the right side of him to see a bush filled with grapes. He smiled and picked the grapes, placing them in a bag he stole from Beth before continuing to follow the tracks left by the person.

As soon as he passed one of the many trees in the green forest, a herd of walkers suddenly came out. He gasped silently and tried to run only to end up on the ground. A walker jumped on him but he managed to kick it off before it could even chomp his teeth in front of his face. He quickly scrambled for the knife that fell out of his belt before smashing to the walker's skull, but he couldn't get it to the brain.

He growled and tried to push it in more but only received another walker on his back. It's teeth were dangerously too close to his shoulder and it growled as it smelt Wilmur's flesh. The young teen growled and desperately tried to shove the walker on his back off him. However, his sprained arms couldn't fight off the walker.

As soon as his arms shoved against the walker, his vision immediately blurred and faded too much. He screeched in pain as he continued to desperately try and shove the walker off with his sprained arms. He screamed as one of his arms broke from shoving the walker off. Instead of rolling over and crying over his new broken arm, he pushed himself off the ground and limped away from the herd with it chasing him down.

Blood dripped to the leafs, but he ignored the clue he would give Daryl and kept limping. Both of his arms were wrapped around his ribcages as he struggled to run. He left the tracks the person had left for him and ran somewhere else in the dangerous woods. He limped to a tree on his sprained ankles and tried to climb up the branches, but only collapsed back to the hard ground and injured the back of his head.

His vision immediately burred from hitting his head too hard. He could hear the walker moans echoing in the blurry distance. A walker stumbled upon him, forcing him to get up and try to run. The walker herds followed his fresh blood into a small shack in the middle of the woods.

Wilmur desperately rushed inside and shut the cardboard door, pulling an object from the shack in front of it. He pulled his gun out of his holster and aimed it toward the door. A cry from behind him forced him to turn around and point the gun toward the people.

However, they were the two children Lizzie and Mika were friends with in the prison. It was the same little girl with brown hair and same boy with the curly brown hair. They both hugged each other as soon as Wilmur's gun was pointed at them.

"Oh my God." Wilmur said and hugged the two children with his sprained and broken arms before looking them in the eyes. "It's Wilmur. From the prison. Remember me?"

The two children nodded and unwrapped their arms around each other. The walkers banging against the cardboard door brought Wilmur back to reality. He quickly shoved the two children under the bed with him crawling under after.

"If we stay quiet, they'll leave." Wilmur whispered to them as he kept his arms wrapped around them.

The children snuggled up close to him in fear, their arms wrapping around him. They've never really dealt with walkers before. Sure, they were close to them at the fence, but they were just naming them then. They never learned how to fight them despite what Carol taught them.

Both of the children sobbed in fear as they listened to the banging against the shack. The walker moans and snarls were growing louder and louder with each terrifying moment passing by. Wilmur's grip on the children tightened, ignoring the pain that tightened in his broken and sprained arms.

Wilmur closed his eyes and buried his bruised face in the cardboard floor. Imagining the shrieks left by the suffering people in the destroyed prison. He could still see his father's face as clear as day. He can still feel his fists landing against his fragile, injured body. His voice was still circling in his head.

He remembered how upset he was to fire a bullet in his father's head. He shouldn't have been upset. He should've been able to pull the trigger instead of letting Michonne deal with him. His father was the one who separated him and Carl. Everything was his fault. Penny's death, Andrea's death, Milton's death, Hershel's death, the death of many people in prison, the prison's fall, and the separation from Carl.

Tears dripped down Wilmur's bruised cheeks as he thought of what his father had done to him while the walkers continued to pound on the cardboard walls. Everything he's done since the apocalypse started has caused nothing pain. Even though he was gone, his ghost was still haunting him. He felt ashamed to be the son of an evil, terrible, horrifying, and disgusting man. He didn't want to be the son of a man like that. He wanted the same father he had before the apocalypse started.

As soon as a sob broke past his lips, reality hit him again. He shut his eyes tightly and thought of his beautiful lover. His sparkling blue eyes and soft hair bristling in the moonlight as he sparkled on the sparkling river rocks. A smile was sneaking on his perfect lips and laughs escaped them. No blood or sweat was on his soft skin.

He imagined his lips against his and their tongues battling as his hands moved all around Carl's body. He almost thought he was really kissing Carl, but a loud pound against the cardboard wall brought him back to reality. He almost thought it was Carl pressing against his skin, but then he realized it was the two children from the prison.

He looked back at the sobbing children with his bloodshot eyes. He wondered if they were out there alone. They certainly couldn't survive if they were on their own or with a weak person. They were too untrained for the evil world.

The young teen looked back toward the door when he realized the walker's sloppy steps were stumbling away. He struggled to crawl out from under the small bed and helped the children do the same with his broken wrists.

"Are you-are you okay?" Wilmur asked as he slid down the cardboard wall, his arm wrapped around his broken ribcages. "Are you out here alone?"

The children nodded. "Lizzie and Mika were suppose to come with us."

"They gone?" Wilmur asked with pain visible in his voice.

Again, the children nodded. Tears of fear and sadness were filling their innocent and scared eyes. They slowly began drip down their cheeks over thinking of the loss of their two best friends.

"What about-what about Carl? The boy who wears that sheriff hat? Did you see him?"

The little girl nodded. "I did. I saw him and his father escaping through the woods."

"What about the baby?"

"Judith?" The little girl questioned and Wilmur nodded. "I think she's dead. Before me and Luke escaped, we saw her baby seat and there was blood in it. We didn't see her with the boy and his father."

Wilmur gasped silently, looking at the floor with tears filling his crystal blue eyes. Carl's little sister was demolished by the flesh eating walkers. She was too innocent to die. She was the most innocent person out of everyone in the entire prison! But now she was dead because the walkers ate her flesh.

He wondered if Carl was doing okay with his little sister's death. What if he did something stupid after she died like he did when he went from Wilmur to Justin? He had to find Carl and fast. But he had to get the children to safety first.

"Can you not find anything?" Beth asked.

Daryl ruffed. "He knows to cover his tracks. He's not dumb, Beth."

"I didn't say that." Beth argued before looking ahead to see a clear spot just below a tree and pointed to it. "What about over there?"

The teen gripped the knife in her belt and headed over to the tree to see a clearing. A little bit of blood droplets were stained against the dead leafs planted on the ground and damp spots were visible on the leafs.

Daryl bent down to examine the clearing spot under the tree before examining the blood droplets and footprints covering the leafs. He moved the leafs out of the way to see the small prints left on the soil. Up ahead led to the same printed footprints left by Wilmur.

"He ran into danger." Daryl said, pointing at the blood droplets. "That's his blood. And the way his footprints are left, he was rushing."

"How long ago was it?" Beth asked, worried.

Daryl shrugged. "Probably about three or four hours ago."

Beth sighed and stood up, looking ahead to see many other footprints most likely left by a pack of walkers. A herd of them had chased Wilmur off deeper into the woods. She stumbled ahead and pulled her knife out of her belt with Daryl following from behind, his crossbow held in his hands.

A walker stumbled across them, only to receive Beth's knife buried in it's soft skull. Daryl walked ahead of her to stay focused on the tracks Wilmur left behind. A shack made out of cardboard in the middle of the woods stopped it. Swarms of walker footsteps covered the house.

Daryl was the first to step inside with his crossbow held up. Nothing was left in the shack except a twin-sized bed with no blanket. A few patches on the ground immediately told them Wilmur was there but left a couple hours ago.

"He couldn't have gone far." Beth said, tucking her bloody knife back in her belt. "Can you tell the difference between a walker and human's track?"

Daryl shrugged. "If it's a herd of walkers mixed with humans, it'd be hard to tell."

Beth sighed and stepped out of the shack to examine the sloppy footprints left in the dirt. Daryl stepped behind her and moved some leafs out of the way to find clear footprints Wilmur had covered.

"That has to be his." Daryl said, placing his finger on the dirt. "But he's not alone. I think he has two children with him."

"So Luke and Molly could be alive." Beth said before kicking some more leafs out of the way to see clear footprints.

Daryl stood up and followed the tracks Wilmur left which led up to a river with sparkling river rocks. Some dirt was left by Wilmur's shoes as well as the blood. A little bit of it stained the rocks which the river was rolling right over. He must've washed himself up in the river.

Beth bent down to pour some water in the bottle before drinking some of it, examining the blood Wilmur left against the wet and slippery rocks. She stuffed some of the grapes she found on the bushes in her mouth, letting the sweet juice activate and interact with her taste buds.

Daryl sighed and sat his crossbow beside Beth, taking off his vest to wash it off in the river just like Wilmur washed his body and cloths in before continuing to follow his ex-adoptive son's tracks.

Wilmur held onto Molly's hand and Molly held onto Luke's as they quickly rushed out of the shack with Wilmur covering his tracks so Daryl and Beth couldn't find him. A few walkers chased them down as Wilmur stumbled on his injured and aching legs. He only managed to kill one walker without falling down with it.

A little bit of blood fell from his skin and landed against the green leafs before he covered them with more leafs. He held onto Molly and Luke's hand again, pushing them forward with his painful, broken and sprained arms. He winced as his ribcages threatened him to rest. His legs were threatening to give out as well with each shove he gave the scared children.

They stumbled across a river with sparkling river rocks surrounding it's area. Wilmur finally let his tight and painful grip go on the children and collapsed in the river with blood soaking against one of the wet rocks. Relief filled his skin as the water washed away the blood that was infecting his deep cuts and dark bruises.

Reality hit him as soon as his bruised elbow bumped into one of the wet rocks. His blue eyes darted to the frightened children who were hugging each other and shaking to death. Wilmur quickly swam out of the water and climbed against the rocks. His legs, arms, and eyes were tired from running too much, the lack of rest, and injuries.

"Let's-let's rest for a moment." Wilmur said, panting.

He dipped his hands in the cool water and splashed it against the dark, purple bruises on his cheeks, eyes, and nose. He grabbed a handful of water and dumped it in his mouth, letting the coolness heal the injuries his father had created in his jaw before looking up at the trembling children.

"You have to drink some water." Wilmur said with pain in his voice. "It'll make you feel better."

Both of the children shook as the sat beside the young teen, dipping their small hands in the water and pouring it in their mouths. They both coughed due to the butterflies they had in their stomachs, but the hands Wilmur placed on their backs helped them keep drinking the cool water.

Wilmur dragged his hands away as soon as the children were able to start drinking the water on their own before pouring water in his mouth again. He washed his broken wrists and bruised face in it before finally standing up on his weak legs. He looked ahead to see a few walkers eating a few couple baby birds on the ground.

"We need to go." Wilmur said, helping both of the children up with pain in his arms.

Luke whimpered. "Where are we going?"

Wilmur grabbed both of their hands with his broken wrists and led them through the cool river. "I'm gonna get you two somewhere-somewhere safe a-and...then I'm gonna go out and look for my-for my other two people."

"There's more survivors out here?" Molly asked excitedly.

Wilmur's head ached as he nodded. "After I find them and bring them back, we'll go on the road."

"But we don't want to." Luke whined.

"We don't have a choice." Wilmur responded. "We can't stay in the woods forever or we'll die. Either from starvation or walkers."

The two children bowed their heads as they held on the young teen's hand. When more walkers passed them, they picked up their pace until they started running through the woods. Wilmur struggled to keep up with Luke and Molly as they ran. Two walkers ended up jumping on both of them.

Molly shrieked as she tried to pull away from the walker's grip but failed. Wilmur quickly stumbled over to her on his severely injured legs and pushed the walker off her, falling with it. He struggled to desperately try and stand again on his weak legs. He quickly scrambled over to Luke who was screaming as a walker leaned in his face, chopping his teeth right in front of his eyes.

The young teen smashed against a sharp branch in a tree and collapsed to the ground, holding his broken ribcages. The two children stared down at him as he moaned in pain before forcing himself to fight against the pain.

"Just-just...keep going." Wilmur struggled to say.

Molly and Luke obeyed, walking in front with him limping and stumbling from behind. His broken hand was gently touching the pistol he had in his holster which only had 4 bullets left. He rested his sprained arm against a tree for a second, holding his broken ribcages before following after the children again.

Walkers were stumbling through the woods and following them. They just never seemed to end. They always came out of nowhere and always followed them. They were probably coming back from the destroyed prison because they couldn't find any fresh flesh. Everything and everyone in it was gone. The flesh the walkers wanted was either dead flesh, burnt flesh, or the person already turned.

Luke and Molly shook in fear as they held hands when each walker stumbled out of the trees. They slowly looked behind them in fear to see Wilmur who was struggling to keep on his broken or sprained ankles. A walker suddenly jumped on Luke and knocked him to the ground filled with thorns hard.

Molly began screamed as Wilmur stumbled over to the walker, sending his knife through it's soft skull before pushing it off Luke. Molly clinged to Luke tighter than ever since she almost lost her best friend. Wilmur watched as the two kids hugged, reminding him of Carl. He could remember Carl being held in his arms after he woke up from a night terror.

While thinking about it, he could almost feel him as if he was there with him. He could still feel Carl's warm breath brushing up against his neck and his fingers clinging to his shirt as well as their soft lips gently brushing together. He'd give anything to hold Carl right now in this very moment.

"Let's go." Wilmur said with pain in his voice as he gently pushed the children ahead.

However, a pack of walkers chased them throughout the woods. Their snarls had growling in it as their arms reached out for the flesh in it's prey. Wilmur pushed the children ahead and continued desperately trying to send his knife through the walker's soft skulls. The children screamed as they watched him collapse with each walker and fight against it.

Wilmur yelped and shrieked in pain when the walker pressed against his broken wrists and squeezed it hard. He managed to kick the walker off with his knee, but he yelped and cried in pain again as soon as his injured knee slammed against the walker's throat and knocked him off. Another walker jumped on his back while another jumped on his shoulders and knocked him down into the thorns. He screeched as the thorn needles stabbed through his skin before he punched the walkers off with his broken knuckles.

The young teen looked up to see a small treehouse in the distance before pointing to it. "Go! Run! Get to the treehouse!"

The children again obeyed and ran for the treehouse, climbing into it and hiding from the herds and packs of walkers.

Beth and Daryl sat at the bright fire in front of them. Night had fallen and they were exhausted from looking for Wilmur and other inmates who survived the prison attack. They were so close to finding Wilmur, but tracks left by walkers ruined Wilmur's tracks. They went deeper into the woods to try and find him and the other two children that were with him, but they couldn't find any more clues.

A blanket was laid on the branchy ground Beth had stolen from the shack. She was sitting on it and playing with her knife as she stared into the burning fire reflecting in her eyes. She looked up to see Daryl who was just staring plainly in it.

"Hey, Daryl?" "Yeah?"

Beth sighed and shifted the position she was sitting in. "When you said Wilmur wasn't gonna be your adoptive son anymore, what did you mean?"

Daryl sighed. "I meant...Wilmur doesn't need me to survive. He never needed me at all. We were close but we don't need each other to survive. Wilmur doesn't need someone to look after him. He's not a kid. The person Wilmur can't survive without is Carl. He needs him. Not me."

"Hey, when I said to control him-" Beth's interrupted.

"You were right, Beth. I can't control him. He's not a kid. The only person who can control him is himself. The-the only person he can't live without is Carl."

Beth sighed and buried her knife in the branches and then the dirt. She looked ahead into the dark woods to hear the night bugs singing and the calls of the owls. She couldn't hear Wilmur at all or anything else except the burning fire, the loud bugs, and the peaceful owls.

"But...Carl isn't here." Beth said. "If he isn't here, then how is Wilmur surviving?"

"...Why do you think Wilmur is out there searching for Carl?" Daryl tested Beth.

The teen sighed and placed her knife back in her belt, but she didn't remove her hand from it. Instead, she laid on the blanket and stared into the clear starry sky through the trees as her index finger tapped her knife.

"We can't just abandon him though." Beth said.

Daryl chuckled silently. "Who says I'm abandoning him?"

Beth smiled as she looked at him and chuckled before looking back at the night sky with her arm draped behind her head. Her black sags under her eyes were growing larger each minute. She desperately wanted to sleep, but the worry about Wilmur and thinking about what the Governor did to her father scared her.

"Get some sleep." Daryl said. "We'll continue lookin' for him tomorrow."

Wilmur climbed in the treehouse along with the two children as they herd of walkers slipped under their tree. He collapsed to the wooden floor as soon as he opened the wooden treehouse door. He gently held his swollen and red, broken wrists and whimpered in pain. Tears drip onto the wood as he thought of his younger lover.

He looked up at the two young children who couldn't be any older than 10. Both of them were frightened and had tears of fear and sadness in their eyes as they clinged to each other.

The young teen scrambled onto his broken or sprained feet before pushing the children into one of the treehouse rooms and shut the door quickly. He stared down at the floor where walkers were below them, growling and snarling as they took sloppy steps. He looked out the window to see a small fire in the distance.

Daryl and Beth...

He turned around and limped over to the treehouse door. However, before he could even turn the knob, his blurred vision faded to black.

All he could hear was screaming in the distance of the fields in the destroyed prison. The Governor was laughing evilly as he stood at the top of one of the undamaged guard towers. Smoke was arising from him as everyone in the prison died and turned.

Wilmur glared as he stared at his evil father. His fists were clenching and growls were rippling from his chest as curse words threatened to escape his lips. However, the death glare in his ice cold eyes replaced it with sadness and tears as he watched his father chop Hershel's head off with his sword and fed it to the walkers before hanging the body up.

He collapsed to his knees and wailed as he watched what used to be Hershel's head demolish. He looked back up at his father on the guard tower who had Carl held tightly in his arms. He laughed and slit his throat before stabbing his younger lover in the stomach countless times.

"Wilmur, help!" Carl screamed and wailed with each shove of the knife entering his stomach.

The young teen quickly stood back up and rushed to the guard tower with his gun and machete pulled out of his belt. However, as soon as he made it to the top, Carl was already dead. Blood was pouring from his injured stomach and the Governor laughed.

Tears pour down Wilmur's cheeks as he stared at his younger lover's dead body. He screamed and cried and wailed as he held it close to him.

Suddenly, Carl grabbed his hair and pulled him down slowly before whispering in his ear. "Wilmur, I love you."

But it was no longer Carl. His sparkling blue eyes was replaced with a cloudy and lifeless color as he yanked Wilmur's neck down and chewed into the flesh, ripping out his jugular.

Tears poured down Wilmur's cheeks as he stirred away and immiedently realized the moon was up in the sky. However, last time he saw it, it was almost full but now it was halfway full. Panic flooded his veins as he realized he could've slept for more than one night.

He quickly rushed into Molly and Luke's room only to find them gone. Instead of searching the rest of the treehouse rooms, he rushed down the latter despite the painful pain. When he looked down, they're they were. Molly's and Luke's eaten bodies.

Tears spilled on Wilmur's cheeks as he realized he failed them just like he failed Penny. He collapsed beside them and cried for more than an hour before reality hit him for the hundredth time. He sniffled and wiped the tears away from his cheeks before pushing himself back up on his aching legs. He felt a lot better, but he was still in so much pain.

Instead of crawling back in the cabin to go to sleep, he followed the fire he saw in the distance. When he managed to stumble upon the fire, he saw Daryl and Beth just looking into the fire. He smiled and sat down beside Beth, throwing a stick in the fire.

"Wilmur?" Beth said, a huge smile forming across her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his injured body. "We've been looking for you for days. Where were you?"

Wilmur sighed as he realized he passed out for a couple of days and left Molly and Luke to defend for themselves. "Well...I went looking for Carl, but I only found Luke and Molly."

Relief filled Daryl and Beth's eyes as they realized the two children were safe, but was replaced with sadness as soon as the next words came out of Wilmur's mouth.

"I got them to a treehouse, but I guess I passed out for a few days and they panicked. So they climbed out of the treehouse and got-and got eaten."

Tears drip down Beth's cheeks as she realized what happened to the two most innocent children in the world.

"I told you they wouldn't last long." Daryl said, sighing.

"But they kinda did." Wilmur replied. "If two young children as young and as weak as that survived more than a day, then that means I'll find Carl okay and alive."

"And what makes you think Carl will be alive when you find him?" Daryl asked.

"Because if those two children as weak as them survived, then Carl had to survive, too. He's way stronger than them, Daryl. I know he survived."

Daryl smiled the tiniest smile in the world. "And you need him to survive unlike me."

Wilmur paused. "Wait, what?"

Daryl sighed. "Wilmur...we don't need each other. We may be close, but we don't need each other. You don't need a parent to take care of you. You're not a kid."

"What are you saying?" Wilmur asked.

"I'm saying, I can't be your adoptive father anymore." Daryl replied.

Wilmur's eyes filled with shock. "But-"

"No!" Daryl yelled quietly. "You don't need me. You never have and never will. You can survive without me. You never needed me at all to survive and you never will. The only one person you can't survive without is Carl."

Wilmur sighed and bowed his head, not replying to Daryl. Now he just lost another father. But...he was right. If Daryl died, Wilmur would continue looking for his younger lover and still survive perfectly fine. If he lost Carl, he wouldn't be able to live physically and emotionally. He loved Carl more than anyone in the world and group.

More than Rick, more than Judith, more than Glenn, more than Maggie, more than Beth, more than Hershel, more than his own father...more than Daryl.

He'd do anything to keep his younger lover alive and safe and happy. Nothing else mattered. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Claimed Rocks

Carl played with his flake cereal as his stomach tightened. He couldn't stop thinking about the prison, knowing for now on they would have to look for their own food instead of growing it. They would have to sleep with one eye open instead of getting a good night's sleep.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Michonne walked up with a white shirt on. They had just reunited with her and it made him happy. If Michonne found them, it'd be easy for Wilmur to find him, right?

Carl laughed at the white shirt for no apparent reason as he stared up at the samurai.

Michonne chuckled as she pulled up her sleeves. "Do you have something to say about my extremely comfortable and attractive shirt?"

"No, no, no. It-it looks great." Carl denied, still giggling as he looked up to see a button Michonne missed before pointing to it. "Oh, you missed a..."

The woman buttoned it up and sat down in the chair as she poured the flake cereal in her bowl. "I wish we had some soy milk."

The young teen furrowed his eyebrows in disgust. "Seriously?"

Michonne smirked. "Yes, seriously. Have you ever tried it?"

"My best friend in third grade, he was allergic to dairy." Carl replied as he remembered his third grade best friend. He wondered if he was still alive somewhere but then he remembered. All of his friends in the past are most likely dead. "And everyday he would bring this soy stuff to lunch. I tried it."

"And?" Michonne smiled.  
"I threw up." Carl replied, laughing.  
"Oh, yeah, right." Michonne argued, giggling.

"All right, all right. I almost threw up. But I was like, ugh." Carl made a fake gagging noise, making Michonne giggle more. "It was so gross. I mean, I would rather have powdered milk then have to drink that stuff again. I would rather have Judith's formula-"

The laughter suddenly died down as soon as Carl mentioned his baby sister. The thought of her giggling and laughing as she played with cups turned into a thought of the walkers tearing the flesh from her skin. His innocent baby sister was gone from the cruel world and was never coming back.

Carl sighed and walked out of the room. "I'm gonna go finish my book. I have a couple chapters left."

The young teen sat down on the couch upstairs and opened his book as he thought of his sister. If he just worried about finding his sister instead of killing walkers, he would've found her. It was because of him one of the members he loved more than anyone in the group was dead.

He sighed and rested his head against the pillows, accidently falling asleep.

The man sighed as he walked around the RV, turning his head to look at the little girl and the mother, his girlfriend. He was frustrated he couldn't find a better place for them. Instead, he found a small camp with one of them members from Woodbury leading it.

The girlfriend stood behind the man. "You going out there today?"

"Supply run." He replied as his hands reached up to touch a leaking spot in the ceiling. "Martinez and the Dolgen brothers."

The girlfriend sighed and moved her tangled hair out of her face. "I'm gonna set up a nurses' station for the camp. They need one."

The man sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, sighing. "I'm sorry. This place is-"

"Stop it." The girlfriend said.  
"I wanted something better for us." The man said.

The girlfriend shook her head. "This camp is good. We'll make it better."

The man sighed and hugged his girlfriend, kissing the top of her hair as he thought of the camp his son was in. He knew he was in a much better camp than them. He could be having fun with his disgusting boyfriend while they were struggling to make their camp a better place.

He had to find his son.

Carl shrieked as Michonne stirred him awake. "Carl! Wake up! It's just a dream!"

The young teen jumped in the samurai's arms and cried into her neck as the nightmare flashed in his mind. The Governor was in it and he was beating his father to death and ripping his sister to shreds. He had Wilmur held hostage and slit his throat. No matter how many times Carl shot the Governor, he wouldn't die. Instead he would laugh over and over again.

Carl clinged to Michonne's shirt for life as he cried. His father's arms were wrapped around him as his palms rubbed soothing circles on his back. He couldn't dare to look at Michonne or Rick. He was embarrassed to be waking up from another night terror.

"Shh. It's okay. It was just a dream." Michonne's soothing voice said as her thumb rubbed his shoulder. "Would a supply run make you feel better?"

The young teen sniffled and pulled away from Michonne and Rick's hugs. He wiped his nose and looked the samurai in the eyes with his teary blue ones.

"W-what supply run?" His voice cracked.

Michonne smiled in hopes of making the boy feel better. "You and I are gonna go find some supplies. Hopefully it'll take your mind off everything."

"What about Dad?" Carl asked.

"He's gonna stay here and rest." She replied, rubbing his shoulder. "You and I can talk about your nightmare."

Carl shook his head and wiped the tears off his cheeks, sniffling. His fingers on Michonne's shirt loosened as he laid his head against her shoulder. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind. Each scream and cry was still ringing in his ears as his father, sister, and lover died.

Michonne sighed and ran her fingers through his soft, brown hair as she and Rick embraced the upset boy. She remembered how Carl had many night terrors and ended up in Wilmur's arms for comfort. Wilmur even ended up sleeping with him just to get his night terrors to calm down.

It was his first night terror he had in a long time, and she was worried they were starting to come back. She wouldn't be surprised because the Governor destroyed their home, killed his sister, killed many in the prison, and separated him from Wilmur.

And that was the bad thing. Wilmur wasn't there to comfort him from his night terrors, and he was the only one who could do so. If Carl's night terrors were really coming back, how were they suppose to comfort him? Only Wilmur could and he wasn't there.

"You and I need to talk." Michonne said, running her fingers through Carl's hair. "If it's not the nightmare, then it has to be about something."

The young teen sniffled, wiping his nose and nodding before pulling away from the warm embrace. He followed Rick and Michonne downstairs to grab a few bags from the empty cabinets.

He turned around to see his father staring right at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

Carl nodded and wiped his nose again, sniffling. "I'm fine. The nightmare just freaked me out. That's all."

Rick squinted his eyes when his son's eyes darted to the floor. He knew he actually wasn't okay because he lost everything he worked so hard for and everyone he fought so hard to protect. And now he was having nightmares about it.

The son stepped forward with two bags held in both of his hands. "There's uh-there's a book upstairs laying on a couch in one of the bedrooms. I think you'll like it."

He watched his son follow Michonne outside on the red porch. He was hesitate to let his son go on a supply run, but he was with Michonne and he knew she'll protect him at all costs just like Wilmur would. He was angry that Wilmur ran off to find Daryl instead of staying with Carl to protect him like he promised.

Of course, he knew Wilmur wanted to save Daryl but that wasn't an excuse for him to leave Carl. His job was to protect his son but he broke it. When he sees Wilmur again, he'll have to remember to curse him out.

"How long you think you'll be?" Rick asked as he followed Carl and Michonne on the porch.

Michonne turned around to look at Rick. "For a couple bags, shouldn't be too long."

Rick looked at the clock he was given from his father. If only his dad was here right now. He would know exactly how to lecture Carl. He would be able to make Carl feel better unlike him. But he was dead and there was nothing he could do to bring him back.

"It's 8:15 now." Rick said.

"We'll be back by noon." Michonne replied.

Rick nodded and turned to his son, handing him a revolver. "All right, you follow her lead. You understand?"

Carl simply took the gun and nodded, placing the gun behind his back as his eyes darted to the red floor of the porch. Rick furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Carl's depressed eyes.

"Hey." Rick said, causing him to look back up at his father. "Everything okay?"

Again, Carl nodded. "Yeah, I'm just...hungry."

It was a stupid question and a stupid lie. Nothing was okay. Everyone and everything was gone. Carl lost Wilmur, Judith, and everyone in his group besides Rick and Michonne. Now they were on their own in hopes to find food and shelter.

But Rick didn't push it like Wilmur would. He didn't have it in him to comfort his son like Lori and Wilmur did.

"All right." Rick said, patting his son on the back. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

Carl followed Michonne off the porch and onto the street with one bag held in one hand and the rock Wilmur gave him held in the other. He stared down at it as his nightmare flashed in his mind. He could still here Wilmur's screams in his night terror as fresh as day.

He was frightened of what the Governor did to his own son. In the nightmares and reality was frightening and horrifying. It didn't matter if he lost his daughter or not. He still had his son and he chose to go cruel. He frightened, killed, and raped.

Everything about the Governor was giving him night terrors. He was in every single nightmare back in the prison when he was going through horrifying night terrors. His one blue eye was glaring and his lips were smirking mischievously. Blood was printed on his pale hands as he gripped onto his crimson red knife.

"That was a lie." Michonne said, snapping him out of his dark thoughts which made him flinch.

"What was?" Carl said although he knew what she was talking about.

"Don't play that." Michonne said seriously. "You know what I meant."

Carl sighed and bowed his head, his eyes darting to the street filled with leafs. They were colored brown, red, orange, and yellow. The sun reflected between them and made the road sparkle as it gleamed in the bright sunlight.

"I'm fine, Michonne. I'm just..." Carl trailed off and continued to look down at the sparkling, leafy street beneath their feet. "It's just that...I can't explain it."

Michonne placed her hand on the young teen's shoulder and gently rubbed it with her thumb. She knew he was upset. Especially after mentioning Judith when they were eating breakfast. It only reminded them both that she was dead like everyone else was.

The Governor had completely destroyed their home, everyone in it, and their happiness. The crops Rick and Carl used to grow in the field was gone, the council who ran the prison was gone, their beds were gone, the people they fought hard to protect was gone, Hershel was gone, Judith was gone, and Wilmur was gone.

"You have to talk about it. Talking is good." Michonne said.

Carl scoffed. "Talking doesn't bring us any good. It sure didn't when my dad was trying to settle it with the Governor."

Michonne flinched at the dark words and removed her hand from his shoulder. "It's all we have left. So talk."

Instead of taking Michonne's words, he looked ahead to see a clean house. "Why don't we check that house? It looks good."

The young teen walked toward it with Michonne sighing and following from behind with her hand gripping her sword on her back. Carl held his revolver up as he swung open the door and stepped in. They listened carefully for walkers or people and checked the rooms before grabbing the supplies.

Some knives were left in the drawers as well as some food which was left in the cabinets. A bag of stale Doritos and a few jars of pickles were left for them to grab. A few bottles of water were left in the fridge along with a couple of bud light but they didn't need that.

Carl tucked a few knives in his belt and stuffed the food in his bags while Michonne searched upstairs for more supplies. He looked up at a picture hanging up on the wall that had a young couple on it. The man was kissing the woman's cheek which had a smile on it.

Memories of Wilmur's lips pressed against his lips and neck flooded his depressed mind. He could almost feel his soft and warm lips against him. He could hear his soothing and loving voice in his ear as well as his sweet breath brushing against his neck. But then he realized the Governor attacked the prison and separated them from each other.

They couldn't have a happy life like normal couples would. Instead, they were trying to survive in a world filled with horrifying people with the dead walking around.

"Let's go." Michonne's voice made Carl flinch.

"Uh...yeah." Carl replied, stuffing the last jar of pickles in his bag before following Michonne out the house.

He stuffed the rock Wilmur gave him in his pocket and held both of the bags in his hands. They walked a few blocks to the next clean house which only had one walker in it. Michonne slashed the walker's head off with her sword before traveling upstairs to check the rooms.

Carl checked the cabinets in the kitchen which was filled with food. There was all kinds of mini bags of chips along with boxes of cereal and gummies. He stuffed the food in the bag before grabbing the knives left behind in the house.

He stared at his reflection in the knife and sighed. All he was now was another man in a world filled with dead people walking around. He was just a shadow to the cruel world. All there was now was deaths and pain, nothing more.

He shook his head and stuffed the knife in his belt before gripping the bags filled with food in his hands. Michonne came downstairs with a full bag and smirked.

"I win."

Carl shrugged and walked ahead of Michonne as they made their way out of the house. The street was empty and free of walkers. The only thing on the road was the colorful leafs that planted the ground.

"Carl, you and I are gonna have to talk." Michonne said.

"Why should I?" Carl shrugged. "Talking doesn't do us any good."

Michonne shook her head. "Well, pain doesn't either. It's the only thing that'll make you feel better."

"It doesn't matter anyway. I'm fine."

Michonne sighed and catched up to Carl when he paced ahead. She held onto her bag filled with supplies as she watched the frustrated boy walk. She was gonna have to get him to talk somehow. It didn't matter how much he hated talking about it.

Carl walked into another house and checked the living room while Michonne made sure the place was clear. He picked up a can of corn off the coffee table and stuffed it in his bag before looking at his reflection in the TV. He could see his blue eyes glisten in it and his sheriff hat tip off his head slightly.

He fixed the hat and kicked a magazine laying on the floor into the corner before walking in the kitchen filled with pans hanging from the ceiling. He checked the drawers which had a few kitchen knives and a fork. He opened the cabinets to find one chip bag and a pack of wheat bread and stuffed them in his bags before heading upstairs where Michonne was at.

He walked in a room filled with books and pictures. One of the pictures had a teenage couple in it and they were holding a baby girl. It reminded him of Wilmur and Judith. He couldn't feel their love anymore because Judith was gone and Wilmur wasn't with him.

There was a poster pasted on the wall which had a vampire sucking a human's blood. It was like a walker tearing someone's flesh from their skin. The walkers caused all the pain and all the angst. They were the reason his mother and sister was dead. It wasn't because Lori had to get a C-section and it wasn't because the Governor destroyed the prison. It was because of them. Because they destroyed everything.

Carl sighed and made his way out of the house and waited for Michonne outside, leaning against the fences. Michonne came out a few minutes later with another full bag and followed Carl down the street.

"I was hoping this supply run would make you feel better." Michonne said. "Take your mind off things, you know?"

"It is helping." Carl argued.

Michonne sighed. "No, it isn't. Every time you walk in a room and look at something, you get all sad or something."

"I'm fine, Michonne. Let's just go."

The samurai sighed again and followed Carl into another house which didn't have many supplies but had lot's of pictures and books. There was pictures of babies, couples, and families. Each of them reminded him of Wilmur, Judith, and Lori.

He opened one of the doors upstairs to see a dead couple laying on the ground with arms wrapped around each other. A hole was left in both of their heads and they both had a pistol held in their hands. He dropped his bags filled with supplies and collapsed on his knees as he stared at the innocent, dead couple.

Michonne's footsteps rustled into the bedroom to see Carl staring at a dead couple on his knees. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him back up on his feet and handing his bags of supplies back to him.

"Let's go." Michonne said softly and led him out of the house.

Carl stayed beside Michonne and followed her along the leafy street. He killed a walker laying on the road with no legs before following Michonne in another clean house with no supplies. He pulled a mini jar of pickles out of his bag and began eating it as they walked along the street.

Michonne furrowed her eyebrows at him and Carl sighed. "I know I shouldn't be eating it and I should be saving it but..."

The samurai shook her head and patted Carl's back, taking a pickle out of the mini jar and stuffing it in her mouth. He threw the jar on the ground when all the pickles were gone.

"You don't seem like yourself." Michonne said. "You never waste any food."

"Well, I did." Carl retorted and sighed. "I'm fine."

Michonne scoffed. "You lost the prison, your sister, you were separated from your boyfriend and you're fine?"

Carl sighed in frustration. "Can we please just look for supplies?"

Michonne sighed and shrugged. She knew Carl didn't want to talk about what happened and he probably never will. She couldn't blame him though for the things he's lost. Everything he worked hard for in the prison was over nothing.

"Yeah."

The man sighed as he sat on the couch with his hand placed in front of his mouth. He stared at the younger man in front of him who was smirking to himself. They and two other men were on a supply run and were resting in a house. The other two men were checking to make sure the house is safe while they were resting on the couches.

The younger man smiled at the older. "I wouldn't have brought you into the camp. If it weren't for the people you were with...the girl..."

The younger man walked to the recliner beside him and sat in it, smiling at him. "You seem different now. Changed."

"If I wasn't with them but with my son, would you still take me in?" The older man asked.

The younger man sighed, the smile wiping off his face. "To be honest, I didn't like your son. I always thought he was a smartass bitch. Even when he changed and started to soften up. But now that I think about it...I like him. He was much better than before when he was rude and cold. He just fell in love and it changed him."

"Yeah." The older man sighed. "It sure did."

"What about you though?" The younger man asked. "Would you approve of their relationship? I know you didn't before but...would you now?"

The man sighed. "I don't-I don't know."

"Hey, what happened to him anyway? Did he make it to the prison when he escaped?"

The man shrugged. "Yeah. He still might be with them now."

"Do you think you'll go after him one day?"

The man shook his head. "Probably not. He wouldn't want to talk to me and the prison wouldn't let me anyway."

"Yeah, but what if he wasn't in the prison?" The younger man questioned. "What if you find him somewhere out here?"

The man shrugged. "He still wouldn't want to talk to me."

"He might if he sees how you changed."

The older man chuckled. "Trust me, he wouldn't want to talk to me. My son is not a forgiver."

The younger man chuckled along and leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself. "I didn't say he would forgive you. I said he might talk to you."

The older man sighed and leaned back in his recliner, his hands pressed against the back of his head. "I don't know what would happen then to be honest."

"...My advice though is to let them be together." The younger man said, causing the other man to furrow his eyebrow. "Your son really loves his boyfriend. I didn't see him with him, but I know he loved him so much. Don't take the love he has for him away from him."

The older man formed a tiny smile on his lips. "I won't."

Carl and Michonne walk out of the eighth house they checked for supplies. There wasn't much supplies they found in the other houses but the one they were just in had plenty. There was lot's of cereal, bread, and chips along with lot's of knives and guns.

Michonne looked at Carl who had his head bowed down. She could see the sadness in his blue eyes and the big frown on his chapped lips. She hated seeing him sad and frustrated. Ever since him and Wilmur had their first kiss, Carl was never able to wipe the grin off his lips until the Governor destroyed the prison.

"Find anything good?" Michonne asked in hopes off making him feel better. "Candy bars? Comic books? Crazy cheese?"

Carl furrowed his eyebrows when the last thing came out of her mouth. "Huh?"

"Bam!" Michonne said, pulling crazy cheese out of her bag. "Crazy cheese. Found it still sealed and everything. Now I'll be nice to let you have the first pull."

Carl shook his head. "No, thanks."

Michonne furrowed her eyebrows at the rejection. Carl always loved it when someone got him something like that. It always made Carl happy when Wilmur came home from a run and got him a present. That was the problem. The presents reminded him too much of Wilmur.

"You sure?" Michonne questioned.

Carl sighed. "I'm fine."

Michonne stopped walking alongside of him. "You don't seem fine."

Carl stopped walking and looked at Michonne with the same sadness in his eyes. "I'm just tired. Okay?"

Michonne nodded and let Carl walk ahead, following him from behind. She watched his steps along the tree as he kicked the leafs out of the way. She knew he was sad, upset, angry, and frustrated like she was. Every single day, she went out looking for the Governor but then gave up on finding him. The very next day, he marched up to their fences and tore it down.

After all the work she put in to find the Governor, it was nothing. If only she kept searching then she could've found him. She should've been cautious when she and Hershel were outside the prison. Instead, she laughed and joked around instead of being serious.

Michonne smirked as she lifted up her Crazy Cheese and squirted some in her mouth, hissing with her mouth filled with cheese right in Carl's face to make him laugh. Instead, he continued walking. He wanted to laugh, he just didn't have it in him. Michonne sighed and wiped the cheese off her lips, following Carl to another clean how.

"I'm sorry." Michonne said as they walked on the filthy porch. "I'm not very good at making boys your age laugh."

She cleared the dust off the window on the door and banged on the window to see if any walkers or humans would happen to be in there.

"I was laughing." Carl replied but was clearly lying straight through his teeth when Michonne furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Inside."

Michonne kept banging on the door. "Toddlers find me funny. Two, three-year-olds."

Carl furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean toddlers?"

Michonne sighed. "I had a three-year-old son and he happened to find me extremely funny."

The young teen stared with wide eyes as he watched her walk in the house with her hand gripping her sword on her back. He followed her inside with his eyes darting to her as he shut the door and dropped his two bags filled with supplies beside it.

Michonne opened a wardrobe door and scavenged for supplies in it. "We need food, batteries, water, in that order."

Carl ignored what she said and focused on the child she had. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a kid? What was his name? Did-did you have any others? Were you married?"

The samurai sighed as she looked at the young teen and walked away from the wardrobe, holding her index finger up. "I'll answer one question at a time, one room at a time, only after we cleared it, and if you let me ask questions about Wilmur."

The young teen sighed as his boyfriend appeared in his mind. He could imagine the grin on his warm lips and the glistening of light in his crystal blue eyes. He could feel his arms wrapped around his body and his fingers stroking his soft hair as he quickly scavenged for supplies in the living room.

He found a gun hiding in a bible on a dresser which shocked him. Why would a Christian hide their gun in the bible of their own religion? But then he remembered they once believed in God but stopped when the world turned upside down. He placed it in his belt and searched for other supplies but couldn't find any.

He followed Michonne in the dining room to find her staring at a beautiful picture. "What was your son's name?"

"I said after."

"Well, these are actually two separate room and we already cleared that one, so..."

Michonne sighed and turned her head to look at the young teen. "Andre. His name was Andrea Anthony."

Carl nodded and placed his arm on one of the dining chairs to rest. He may have not have met him but he knew Andre was just as innocent as Judith. He didn't deserve to die and he certainly didn't deserve to have his flesh ripped apart. But it may have not have mattered if he died or not. Judith was eaten when the prison was attacked and maybe Andrea would've been, too.

"Now my turn." Michonne said, turning her whole body to face him. "Does Wilmur stress you out? Be honest."

Carl shook his head. "No, not at all. I mean, when he went on supply runs then yeah. But that was about all."

Michonne nodded before pointing at a dresser. "Good. Now, make sure there isn't a box of cookies hiding in there."

The samurai walked out of the dining room with her hands held behind her back. Carl walked over to the dresser which had a couple candles and a picture of two kids on it.

"Did you have any other kids?" Carl asked, breaking the rules of the game.

"Rules of the game, my friend." Michonne called back from another room.

Carl sighed and opened the drawers to see nothing but dust and cotton webs in it. He opened the next drawer to see peppermints. He smirked and tucked them in his pockets as he followed Michonne to the other room.

"So?" Did you?" Carl asked about having other children.

"You know, you could be a spy, or a cop." Michonne tried to shake off the question.

Carl crossed his arms and gave Michonne a knowing look, making her sigh in defeat. "No. One was enough for me. And Andre was a handful, like you."

Carl smiled in victory and waited for Michonne to ask another question about his boyfriend. She looked up at the ceiling as millions of questions passed by in her head, but she had to ask the right one. She had to figure out what was bothering Carl.

"Does it bother you that Wilmur is the Governor's son?" Michonne asked.

The young teen flinched and hesitated as he thought about it. It was a tough question to answer because he didn't know what he felt about it. After all, the Governor did destroy everything and everyone they had. But Wilmur was the complete opposite. He would never hurt someone he truly loved but his father would. He had a cruel, insane, disgusting, and horrifying father. He couldn't help but think Wilmur inherited some of his evil traits.

He shrugged. "I-I think so. A little bit. But that's because his father is scary and did cruel things to all of us. We just-let Wilmur in anyway even though he was the son of the man who destroyed everything we had. But that doesn't make me love him any less."

Michonne nodded at his honesty. If she was honest with herself, it'd frighten her that they still had a little bit of the Governor on their side. They would always have a little bit of him in their hearts because of Wilmur.

"Does this hallway count as a room?" Carl asked.

Michonne shrugged. "If you can find something we can use."

Carl looked forward to see a painting on the floor in front of a door covered with plastic which had blue duct tape on it. He simply ignored it and opened a drawer to find nothing but cotton webs in it. He sighed and walked over to the picture with plastic over it and picked it up, walking back to Michonne and tipping it on the floor.

"This is the only thing I could find. Does it count?"

"Technically, yes." Michonne smiled, grabbing the picture from his hands. "So?"

Carl looked at the ceiling in hopes to have a question suddenly pop in his mind. He could ask her how he died, but he already knew considering he was too small and fragile for the cruel world. He could also ask if she was married, but then he remembered this was about her son. Not her boyfriend or husband.

"How long has it been?" He asked.

Michonne looked away from Carl to shield him from seeing the tears in her eyes. She truly missed her son but she knew there was almost no way for him to survive.

"It happened after-you know, after everything happened."

Carl nodded. "Does my dad know?"

Michonne shook her head. "Never told him. Never told anyone till just now."

Carl smiled. "Your secret is safe with me."

"It's not really a secret." Michonne replied.

"It's still safe with me." Carl smiled. "Now, what's the question about Wilmur?"

"Oh, yes." Michonne said, almost forgetting to ask him something. "Is Wilmur in your night terrors?"

Carl nodded. "He's in ever single one. Him and the Governor are. It always ended with Wilmur leaving me behind or dying and the Governor always won."

Michonne stared at the young teen as she connected the dots of his night terrors. She knew why he was having them and it seemed to be because Wilmur caused them as soon as their relationship started. When he was having night terrors in the prison, he seemed to be frightened every time he looked at Wilmur and always mistaked him as the Governor as soon as he looked at him.

It was all because he was the Governor's son. Because the Governor caused so much blood and tension and then a little bit of the Governor came to live with them. Wilmur stressed Carl out because he was the Governor's son and he was frightened although he may not know.

But Carl healed because Wilmur let him know he would protect and love him forever no matter what or who he is. Carl started getting convinced Wilmur wasn't the Governor and never will be because he brought him back and threw Justin away. After all the night terrors, he got better and accepted the fact Wilmur and the Governor were two different people.

However, now that the Governor came back and attacked the prison, the night terrors were slowly starting to come back. It was because Wilmur wasn't there to let him know they were to different people. He even left Carl for Daryl! Now every night terror was going to come back.

She watched as Carl walked into another room with his gun held up. She knew tonight, Carl would wake up frightened again, and she and Rick couldn't comfort him. The thoughts forced her to tear the plastic off the picture and look at it. Only to see blood finger prints printed on it to make the painting look evil.

Michonne gasped silently and looked at the door Carl got the painting from. She gripped her sword as she walked in the door to find a small bathroom with a stuffed bear in it and two bedrooms with one of them being completely pink everywhere.

Dead bodies of innocent children laid on the pink bed with bullet holes in their foreheads. They were snuggling close to each other and apparently died or committed suicide together. Tears fell down her cheeks as she looked at the innocent children's dead bodies. By the look of them, she could tell they were scared. Frightened over what happened to the world.

She looked in the corner to see a rocking chair with another innocent dead person laying in it. There was a bullet hole in the back of her head. Someone either killed all these innocent children or they killed themselves.

"Michonne?" Carl rushed in the room when he heard her sob.

She quickly stepped out of the pink room and shut the door, standing in front of it protectivingly. It was already bad enough Carl was gonna go through night terrors again. If he saw the dead bodies, it would just make everything worse.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's fine." Michonne lied.

Carl squinted his eyes and took a few steps forward, looking at the door Michonne was standing in front of. "There's a baby in there."

"It's a dog." Michonne lied again.

The young teen bowed his head as his blue eyes darted to the floor. Flashes of Judith flooded his mind as he thought of Andre and the dead baby inside the pink room. Little, innocent children as young as toddler age didn't deserve to die. They don't deserve to have their flesh ripped apart by teeth.

"My dad let me name her." Carl said, thinking of his baby sister. "Maybe-maybe her and Andre are together somewhere."

He didn't believe in Heaven and he didn't know if he believed in a better place. After everything they were promised in life and it was taken from them, he wasn't sure if there was anything good left anymore. But all he could do was believe.

Michonne smiled. She knew Andre and Judith don't have to face the cruel and horrifying world anymore. They were free from all the disgusting people and the flesh eating dead people. They don't have to live in fear every second of every day anymore. They could finally be happy and free.

"Come on." Michonne said. "It's almost noon. Your dad will wonder where we are if we're late."

"Hey?" The little girl said, pushing on the man's shoulder.

The man turned around and smiled, ruffling the little girl's long hair. "What is it, pumpkin?"

"If you don't mind, can you tell me about your son? I wanna hear more about him."

The man hesitated. He didn't like talking about him because all it brought was the memories of the dead people he lost back in his old camp. All his son done was cause trouble for everyone before and after he softened.

"You already know." The man said.

"I want to know more." The little girl replied. "If he could change maybe I could change."

The man shook his head and patted the little girl on the back. "I don't want you ending up like him."

"I just want to know exactly how he changed. He couldn't have changed so easily."

The man chuckled. "Since when were you interested?"

"Well, it's just that..." The little girl hesitated. "I tell you what. I'll tell you why I want to know if you tell me about your son."

The man smiled. "All right. What do you wanna know?"

"Everything that made him change."

The man paused and squinted his one eye as he looked up at the light blue sky speckled with puffy clouds. The bright sun shined in his eye and stung it as he reminicisiced the terrible memories of his son.

"Well, after the world turned upside down, he changed and got cold so he wouldn't get close to anyone and lose them in the end. He was incredibly rude to others and treated everyone like crap. Even me. He hardly ever listened to me. He would always argue with me and others. But then one day, he managed to escape the camp and bust in on another one. There was a boy about his age and he always argued with him."

The little girl furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought he cared for him."

"He did." The man replied. "Just not at first. The camp took him hostage and taunted me with him. They said they were gonna attack my camp if I didn't let them have my son and if I didn't let them come in my camp and take my supplies and some of my people."

"They were bad?" The little girl questioned and the man nodded.

"Anyway, my son was busy arguing with everyone in the other camp because they were asking him questions about my camp. He didn't care, he was just annoyed by the questions. All he did was argue with the boy his age. While he was taking watch, my son tried to escape but the boy caught him. He brought him back inside and they got in a big argument."

The little girl nodded. "Was the boy bad?"

The man nodded. "Yep. In one of the arguments they had, the boy somehow made my son believe a lie he told him. He kept telling him the lie over and over again until he believed it. Then they slowly started getting along well until it got too far."

"They fell in love?" The little girl questioned and the man nodded.

"Yeah. I managed to get my son back though. I talked to him about how he softened and he told me about the boy he liked there. He told me not to attack the camp because he loved him. But he got mad at me when I told him they killed a lot of people at my camp and I had to do something about it. He freaked out when I warned him about the boy he loved."

"I'm guessing he escaped your camp?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. He jumped the wall and headed to live with the boy. I went after him with my men and they died trying to look for him. I found him though and brought him back, but then he killed some of my men and escaped again. I tried to go after him again but...there was no luck. I haven't seen him since."

"I'm sorry that happened." The little girl said. "I would never do something like that."

The man nodded in agreement. "Now, why did you want to know my son's story?"

The little girl sighed. "I thought he sounded like my older brother. But it didn't."

"You have an older brother?" The man raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah. His name was Jeremy. Our father was really mean to us and especially to him because he hardly listened to him. I understand why though."

The man chuckled. "Sounds like my dad."

"Yeah. But then he met this homeless boy his age and he brought him food and fresh cloths everyday." The little girl said. "They fell in love and Jeremy brought him over to our house so he could live with us. My dad got mad and kicked him and Jeremy out of the house. My mom tried to stop him but she couldn't. She and I went after them, but we could never find them. We reported them missing a week before the zombies came. We still haven't found them though. We don't know what happened to them."

The man sighed and stroked the little girl's hair. "Yeah, that's nothing like my son's story."

"Do you miss your son?"

"Sometimes."

Carl and Michonne walked along the street together in silent. Their bags were filled with food, water, and weapons. Enough to last them a week of food. They were almost back to the house and were about to have a feast. Hopefully it would take Carl's mind off everything for a while. He didn't need to think about what and who they just lost.

As soon as the house was in their view, they could hear gunfire. Carl froze right on the spot in horrors of his father might be in trouble of walkers or people. But he would never fire a bullet when there was just a few walkers. He couldn't lose another loved one in the hands of a human. He's already lost his boyfriend, his sister, and everyone he cared for in the prison. If he lost his father, he doesn't know how he could go on.

Suddenly, he could see his father running toward him with a machine gun held in his hands. "Go! Go!"

Carl and Michonne quickly turned around and sprinted down the street with Rick following from behind. His hand was placed on his son's shoulder and shoving him forward. They rushed into the green woods and ran until they thought they were safe.

"Lets stop here for now." Rick said, setting his machine gun on a tree and sitting beside it.

"I'm gonna go pick some berries over there. I don't think they're poisonous."

Rick nodded. "Don't wander too far."

"I won't." Carl replied, placing his sheriff hat on his head before walking to the berry bushes.

Michonne gravitated near Rick and sat down next to him as her brown eyes darted to Carl. "I'm worried about him."

"Me, too." Rick whispered back. "He says he's okay but I don't think he is."

"He isn't." Michonne replied. "I was asking him questions about Wilmur today and connected the dots. Carl is frightened over what the Governor did and since Wilmur is the Governor's son...he's scared. That's why he was having night terrors before. Because the Governor frightened him and a little bit of the Governor was living under the same roof."

"Why would Carl be afraid of his own boyfriend?" Rick questioned.

"You tell me." Michonne replied. "It's not Wilmur he's scared of. He's scared 'cause he's the Governor's son. It scares him even though he might not know."

Rick's blue eyes darted to his son as his son picked the berries off the bushes and stuffed them in his bag. He stood up and walked over to his son, helping him pick the berries and eating some himself.

"Let's leave some in case Wilmur happens to pass by." Rick said, guiding his son away from the bushes.

They sat down together by the tree and began eating the many berries they picked. The juicy flavor was seeping into their taste buds and activating them. It was a sweet and sour taste and it was the first juicy thing they ate in a long time.

"Let's keep goin'." Rick said putting away the berries and taking the lead.

Eventually, they made their way out of the green forest and followed the train tracks they ran across. Carl walked in the middle of Rick and Michonne, pulling the Crazy Cheese out of the black bag.

"Crazy Cheese?" Carl offered the Michonne.

The samurai grinned and shook her head. Carl smirked and stuffed the Crazy Cheese back in the black bag and followed his father to a train cart. It had a huge sign on it.

Sanctuary for all, community for all, those who arrive survive...Terminus.

"What do you think?" Michonne asked.

"What about Wilmur? He said he would find me. He couldn't if we go there."

Rick shook his head and placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "He'll think you're heading through though. He'll follow the tracks. Wilmur's smart."

Carl sighed as he looked at the sign and nodded. Wilmur would know Carl is heading in the direction of Terminus and he would follow him. They could run across each other on the road or they'll meet at Terminus. Either way, it leads to them.

"Let's go." Carl said.

Rick nodded and took the lead, following the tracks the map on the train cart traced. In the night when they rest, Carl wakes up from another horrifying night terror. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Still Rocks

"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?" Daryl asked Beth who was walking straight toward a walker with no weapon in her hands.

Wilmur was resting on a tree trunk and wiping blood off his skin and cloths. He didn't know if the blood was his, from a walker's, or from his father considering he still had wounds from when his father beat him up nearly to death. Some of his bruises and cuts were getting infected. Pus was dripping out of it along with crimson blood.

Beth was trying to get him to rest, but Wilmur refused to because he needed to find Carl. He always told Beth the same thing every time she asked him to rest; I have to find Carl. He's already rested a lot the past week. It's time for him to focus on finding his boyfriend.

"Uh-trying to get the raspberries on the bushes." Beth scoffed, turning to glare at him. "What? You want us to starve?"

"Uh-do you wanna get bit?" Daryl retorted.

Beth scoffed. "I know what I'm doing."

"You don't even have a weapon on you!" Daryl yelled.

Wilmur rolled his eyes. He was sick of the arguments Daryl and Beth were having. It always slowed them down and attract a walker herd to come after them. They always ended up running and someone ended up getting hurt. Then Daryl and Beth would argue, and it would happen all over again.

They barely got any sleep due to the arguments Daryl and Beth had and because Wilmur was searching like hell to find Carl. Hungry walkers always stumbled across them and greeted trouble. They'd cut off their tracks and force them to run another way. He was starting to get frustrated. Every walker they ran across he brutally bash it's head in.

"I don't need a weapon!" Beth yelled. "I can just push it down!"

"What if you can't push it down?! Huh?!" Daryl yelled. "What're ya gonna do then?!"

"Can you stop?" Wilmur huffed with frustration. "It's bad enough you attract hundreds of herds everyday."

Daryl grumbled and glared at Beth one last time before he shoved her out of the way and shot the walker with his crossbow. He scoffed and kicked it when he realized his arrow broke.

"I had it!" Beth yelled.

Daryl scoffed. "You sure as hell didn't! You didn't have a weapon on you!" Daryl yelled.

"I didn't have to kill it! There was just one! I could've simply pushed it out of the way!"

Wilmur rolled his eyes again and walked toward the bush filled with raspberries while Daryl and Beth continued to argue. He put some of them in a brown purse he found while putting a few in his mouth. The juicy and sour flavor soaked in his tongue and traveled across his taste buds.

He looked to the next bush which had almost no raspberries on it. A lot of them were laying on the ground either squashed or eaten. Below the squashed raspberries and sticks was a footprint. He quickly moved the squashed berries and broken sticks to see a footprint about Carl's size.

A tiny smile formed on his busted lips as he scrambled across the leafy ground to search for more footprints. All he found was the leafs and branches covering the soil. However, by a tree laid some squashed and half eaten raspberries as well as three clearings, showing where three people once sat.

Even though the berries were old, they couldn't have gotten far. The shoe size in the mud was Carl's and a small body was sitting along with the two bigger bodies. He knew Carl only escaped the prison with Rick but it had to be him. Luke and Molly was already dead, Lizzie and Mika took the tracks, and Beth was with them. There was no other small person it could be except Carl.

The young teen looked back at Daryl who was still arguing with Beth. Their yelling and shouting had only increased and was undoubtly attracting more walkers.

"Hey." He tried to grab their attention but was practically ignored. "Hey! I found some tracks."

They ignored him and continued to argue. Their voices got louder through every word coming out of their mouths as each minute passed by. Frustration was in Daryl's eyes while anger was in Beth's. Both of their fists were clenching so tightly, blood could slip out of their palm any second if it impossibly grew even tighter.

"Guys!" Wilmur said loudly but not enough to yell. "You're attracting walkers."

But it didn't matter to them. All Daryl and Beth cared about was trying to prove who was right. They didn't care about what was happening around them. To them, it didn't matter if they were attracting a herd or not. They were always lucky to escape the herd. Not once did it just happen for running.

A walker suddenly popped up from behind a tree. It snarled as it made it's way over to the arguing Daryl and Beth. Wilmur quickly rushed over to it and kicked it to the ground as hard as his legs would let him before smashing his foot into the walker's soft skull. Blood splattered all over the bottom of his pants and shoe with each smash with his foot in the walker's head.

He sighed with frustration when Daryl and Beth continued to argue before pulling his Beretta out of his holster and firing a bullet in the sky, stopping Daryl and Beth from arguing any more.

Daryl glared at Wilmur. "Why'd the hell you do that for?! You're wasting bullets!"

"Well, you both are wasting time." Wilmur scoffed, placing his Beretta back in his holster. "A herd will be here any second now."

Daryl scoffed, still angry toward Beth. "Well, pick the berries and lets get outta here."

"I did pick the berries while you two were arguing." Wilmur retorted. "I found a footprint about Carl's size and one clearing about his size."

"I don't care." Daryl grumbled.

Beth scoffed. "Well I do. I wanna see them."

The eighteen-year-old followed Wilmur to the squashed and eaten berries laying below the raspberry bushes. Beside it was a small footprint about Carl's size. The smile across Beth's lips showed relief as Wilmur guided her to the three clearings where three people was sitting.

Beth smiled again. "I bet we can catch up to them."

"No." Daryl said. "By the look of the berries, they left a week or so ago. Wherever they were, they're far from us."

"We don't know that." Beth replied with irritation in her voice. "It doesn't matter if they're far. We have to follow them. At least do it for Wilmur."

Daryl scoffed angrily. "He ain't my adoptive son no more. If he wants to look for Carl, he can go himself." Daryl growled.

Wilmur scoffed. "You know what? I will."

He immediately started pushing starting pushing bushes and branches out of the way with his knife pulled out of his belt. His crystal blue, swollen eyes darted to the dirt on the ground to find signs of any tracks left by Carl.

Beth looked back at Daryl and shot him a glare. Her fists were clenching again as anger filled her greyish eyes. She shook her head and scoffed as she tucked her knife back in her belt and followed Wilmur down the woods. Daryl scoffed and held his crossbow up as he followed Beth.

Wilmur looked at a trail left by Carl and two people. He smiled and kept following it with Beth and Daryl following from behind. However, a pack of walkers suddenly come out from behind a tree. Wilmur's eyes widened and pointed for Daryl and Beth to run back.

They silently ran the other direction with their hands placed over the pistols in their holsters. He killed a walker quietly when one snuck up on Beth and ran ahead. As soon as they made their way back to the same spot Daryl and Beth were arguing at, another herd cut them off.

"This way." Daryl said quietly and took the lead with Beth and Wilmur following from behind.

The herds had combined and were now snarling and growling louder as they approached their prey. Another herd came out of nowhere and chased them in the other direction. However, herds were surrounding them from every corner now.

Daryl stared at the walkers with a glare glistening in his blue eyes before looking up to see a tree with many thick branches. "Do y'all know how to climb trees?"

Wilmur and Beth nodded. Wilmur remembered his father teaching him how to climb when he was eight while Beth remembered how Hershel taught her how to climb when she was ten. He remembered how his mother always took him to a park filled with trees and he'd always climb them. It was always nearly impossible to get him to climb down.

But those days were long gone. Being able to climb a tree is precious now instead of playful like it was for him and his younger sister back before the world fell. If a bad person was chasing them, they could always climb up trees. If a walker herd was chasing them, they could still climb up the trees.

Wilmur followed behind Daryl as he grabbed each branch and pulled himself up. Below him was Beth who was struggling to climb. She hadn't climbed a tree since she was ten-years-old and now she was eighteen. She couldn't remember the force she had to use to grab each branch, nor did she know to balance on the little branches.

"Beth." Wilmur whispered, offering a hand to pull her up.

She hesitantly grabbed his hand and pulled herself up while Wilmur helped her. Her chest met his back as she stepped on the next branch where he was standing. He looked up to see Daryl already at the top of the tree, leaving them behind. He shook his head and scoffed before stepping out of Beth's way so he can push her up to the next branch.

His hand was placed on her back as he pushed her up to the next skinny, fragile branch. She offered him a hand to pull him up which he accepted. He took it and pushed himself up as Beth pulled him up. He winced as she pulled on his broken wrist.

"Sorry." She whispered as she pulled him up.

However, as soon as his foot stepped on the fragile branch, it cracked and fell off the tree with Wilmur and Beth falling along with it. Their heads smashed against the branchy ground, leaving a dark bruise on the back of their heads. Beth moaned in pain but Wilmur was quick to scramble up for his knife and start smashing it in the walkers soft skulls.

The walkers pushed him in the bushes filled with thorns and tried to rip open his flesh with their teeth. The sharp thorns cuts into his skin and blood immediately splattered all over the disgusting faces of the walkers. They fell in the thorns with him and got stuck in the vines.

Wilmur shrieked as he yanked his injured body out of the thorn bushes and rushed over to Beth who was still laying on the ground and moaning over her injured head. He quickly pulled her up but they're both knocked down again when another pack of walkers knock them down. The walkers piled on top of them and desperately tried to rip the flesh from their skin.

Wilmur scrambled for his knife and smashed it in the walker's skulls as each walker piled on top of them. Through the hands of the walkers, he managed to hand Beth one of his knives and continued to brutally smash his knife in the walker's skulls. He sunk his fingers in one of the walker's throats and forced blood to spew out of their mouths.

Blood splattered on his and Beth's face as he sunk his fingers in each of the walkers throats. He roared as he brutally shoved a walker off him and smash it into a sharp log. He yanked a walker off Beth and did the same, only he began kicking the body brutally in rage after he smashed his skull in the sharp log.

Beth sent her knife through one of the walker's skulls before doing the same to the next which jumped on her. Wilmur shoved Beth out of the way to protect her from the active and hungry walkers as he brutally killed them. Crimson blood spilled all over Wilmur's cheeks, hair, and cloths with each smash in the walkers skulls.

Another pack of walkers suddenly stumbled out of nowhere. Their growls and snarls roared as soon as they saw the fresh flesh in front of them. Wilmur rushed to the pack of walkers while Beth focused on the other walkers. Crimson blood stained the branches and green leafs settled on the ground. It splattered against the bushes and colored it crimson.

Together, him and Beth shoved the walkers in the thorns, causing blood to spew all over them. It colored their skin, cheeks, cloths, and hair crimson. It shined in the sunlight through the green trees and darkened with more blood staining against them.

Walker bodies piled on top of each other with each one dying. It completely covered a circle on the branchy ground and colored it red. The growling and snarling grew completely silent despite more walkers heading their way in the distance.

Wilmur panted with his crimson and swollen hands placed over his knees. He looked at Beth who had blood all over her cloths to make sure she was okay and survived. Her knife held in her hand was colored crimson just like her tangled hair was. The panic in her eyes softened as soon as she looked at him. He had saved her unlike Daryl did.

She growled and looked up in the tree where Daryl was still at. "Thanks for the help, jackass!"

Daryl scoffed and climbed back down the tree with his crossbow still held in his hand. He turned to glare at Beth and took a few menacing steps toward her.

"Wilmur seemed to be helping you just fine." Daryl growled, shooting another walker dead with his crossbow.

"He nearly died because you didn't help!" Beth yelled. "He's your son! You should've saved him!"

Daryl stepped in her face, shooting her a death glare. "He ain't my son no more. He can handle himself."

"It doesn't matter if he's your son or not! You care for him so why let him almost die?!"

Wilmur scoffed. "Can we just forget about it? I don't even care anyway. I care about finding Carl. Nothing else."

Beth turned her head to glare back at Daryl. "I would like to but he doesn't seem to care."

Just when Daryl was going to deny it, another pack of walkers stumbled across them. Daryl shot one of them dead with his crossbow before following Beth and Wilmur who was running from the walkers.

Wilmur limped as he stumbled through the woods with Daryl and Beth behind him. His legs were aching from running too much the past week and fighting off too many walkers. He was exhausted and desperately needed to rest, but he refused to until he found Carl.

The young teen brutally killed another walker when one jumped out from inside a hole in the tree before continuing to limp through the woods. He looked behind him to make sure Beth was keeping up. He wasn't too worried about Daryl but Beth was a little inexperienced with the brutality of the destroyed world.

She was an innocent light to all of them. She never did anything far too terrible like everyone else in the group and prison did. He was desperate to keep that innocent light alive. If she died, all the innocence would be gone from their brutal world.

He rarely talked to Beth in the prison because he was always gone on runs and she was always taking care of Judith. But she was one of the two people he had left right now and he had to cherish it.

Another pack of walkers forced them to run another way. He pushed Beth ahead of them to protect her while he and Daryl stayed behind to control the walker herd. They ran across a wide stream river with filthy RVs and tents rested beside of it on land. Walkers were piling the old camp, forcing them to swim through the river.

The three of them jumped in and swam across it. Wilmur and Beth's arms were exhausted and could hardly swift through the water but they made it. The blood washed the fresh, crimson blood off their cloths and skin as well as their hair when they ducked underwater. They swam out of the river and continued to run through overunned woods with hands placed over the knives in their belts.

Another pack of walkers jumped out of nowhere and chased them in the other direction. Daryl ran ahead of him and Beth to kill the walkers stumbling in front of them with their sloppy steps. Wilmur turned around to see another walker herd coming from behind them, sending them in one last direction.

Finally, they stumble across another camp filled with dirty tents and dead people along with a fireplace laying in the middle. Empty cans of food piled across the camp along with brown water in the water bottles. Dirty cloths were clipped to a grey line crossing the camp.

Beth panted with exhaustion and sat on one of the logs surrounding the burnt fireplace. "I need to rest."

"We have to keep going, little bitch." Daryl growled.

"What did you just call me?" Beth challenged him while taking menacing steps.

Wilmur motioned for Beth to sit back down and looked back up at his ex-adoptive father. "The sun is gonna be out in an hour. We need to stay here for the night."

Daryl scoffed and kicked an empty can of peaches out of his way. "There's a fucking herd of walkers heading this way. We can't rest."

"I'll lead them away." Wilmur replied. "I gotta look for Carl anyway."

"You mean look for your dead boyfriend?" Daryl scoffed.

Wilmur glared. "He's not dead."

"How the hell would you know that?" Daryl glared back. "Do you see how many walkers are out there? He could easily be dead!"

Wilmur scoffed and headed for the woods and turned his head to glare back at Daryl. "If it wasn't for him, I would've never turned back to Wilmur! I owe him so much! I'm not gonna give up until I find him!" Wilmur snapped.

Daryl just glared at his ex-adoptive son. He was tightly gripping his crossbow as he stared at him. It was bad enough he was with two reckless people. Beth barely knew anything about the brutal world and Wilmur was too determined to find Carl. They both barely listened to him. All they were doing was slowing him down.

"I'm gonna go find the herd and try to find Carl." Wilmur said, turning to head for the woods but immediately stopped and turned back to look at Daryl and Beth with irritation in his crystal blue eyes. "And don't argue."

"That's something I can't promise." Beth replied with irritation in her voice.

Wilmur sighed and headed into the woods. He pulled his blood covered knife out of his belt as he limped forward. He could hear the moans and snarls of the walkers in the distance across the river. The walkers couldn't cross it, but he didn't want to take any chances.

A walker snarled at him as it popped out from behind a tree. He growled in annoyance and shoved the walker against a tree before jabbing his knife in his soft skull. He threw it down on the ground and smashed his foot in it's face in rage.

He was angry for so many reasons. First, his father marched up to the gates and destroyed the prison. Second, he was separated from Carl and couldn't find him. Next, Daryl and Beth's lame arguments kept attracting thousands of packs of walkers. Then, his father badly injured him and the walkers were making it worse. And final, everyone he loved was dead besides Carl.

If he could, he would slaughter every walker in the entire world brutally. He was frustrated with every thing and desperately wanted to somehow make all the walkers suffer. But then he would end up just like the Governor. He just needed to find Carl and rest with him. After he finds Carl, all of his rage and frustration will come to an end. He could finally relax in his lover's arms. But he needed to find him first.

Wilmur limped back to the river where the walkers were drowning in. Twenty of them were drowning in the river while the rest of them were stumbling around the camp. He sighed with frustration in his voice and tucked his knife back in his belt but was still holding it.

He sighed again and made his way back to the small and dirty camp Beth was resting at and Daryl was throwing stuff around in rage. He sat down next to Beth and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tears were stinging her eyes as she stared in the fire Daryl had made while he was gone.

"Did you find any tracks of Carl?" She asked with her voice cracked, not worrying about the walkers but about Carl.

Wilmur sighed and shook his head. "I wish."

Beth sighed and threw a coal in the bright fire in rage. The tears in her eyes were threatening to spill on her cheeks, but she couldn't cry. She had to be strong like Daryl was.

"It's okay to cry." Wilmur said, noticing how she's fighting back the tears.

"I don't cry anymore." Beth said.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

"After everything I've been through...I just ran out of tears. You wouldn't understand."

Wilmur sighed and withdrawal his hand from her shoulder. "Maybe not, but I still want to know what's wrong."

Beth shook her head. "I'm fine."

"You know I'm not gonna leave you alone until I figure out what's wrong." Wilmur chuckled.

Beth chuckled as well. She remembered when something bothered Carl, Wilmur would follow him all around the prison until he opened up.

"Well...the first people I lost was my mother and brother." Beth said, shuddering as she remembered their faces like it was yesterday. However, Wilmur's hand placed over her shoulder got her to keep talking. "Then it was my boyfriend, Jimmy. Then I lost a man and woman I was close to named Otis and Patricia."

Wilmur's eyes saddened as she listened to all the names Beth listed she lost. He knew what is was like to lose a mother and sibling as well as people you were close to like Hershel. He slightly knew how it felt to lose a boyfriend considering he lost Kevin but he betrayed him in the end.

"After them, I lost my second boyfriend, Zach." Beth continued, noticing Wilmur's shiver when she mentioned his best friend's name. "Then it was Daddy."

Hershel flashed in Wilmur's mind. He remembered Hershel being the first one to take care of him even when he was Justin. Everyone else argued or yelled at him. Ever since he became Wilmur, he and Hershel became good friends. He, Hershel, and the council group helped work together to make the prison a better place.

But now Hershel was gone because the Governor chopped his head off. They lost the man who saved Carl's life, who helped the prison, who helped everyone make the right choices, and who saved hundreds of lives in the prison.

"I lost my mom and younger sister." Wilmur said, tears filling his eyes as he thought of them. "I miss them so much."

"What were they like?" Beth asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

Tears slowly started dripping down Wilmur's cheeks, creating a clear trail from the dirt on his cheeks. "My mom was really sweet, loving, and caring."

Beth smiled. "She sounds like you."

Wilmur smiled back but was still crying. "It's what my dad said. He always said I was just like my mom even though we look so different. Now, I wasn't very close to my dad. I was closer to my mom. She was always able to make me feel better. She was...always able to put a smile on my face."

Beth smiled at how much Wilmur and his mother were alike. Like his mother, he was always able to make everyone feel better just like he was able to put a smile on everyone face and especially Carl's.

"She died in a car accident though while I was at school." Wilmur said, shuddering as he recalled his father signing him out early to see her dead body in the hospital. He remembered how terrible she looked when he saw her corpse in the hospital bed. It wasn't his mother anymore. "So it was just me, my sister, and my dad."

Beth bowed her head as she remembered after her mother died, it was just her dad and sister. She missed them so very much. She was really close to Maggie when she was little, but now she was gone and most likely she won't her for a long time.

"Anyway, my sister was very playful, mature, and a happy bird. After my mom's death, I slept in her room for a while. She was always able to make me feel better like my mom did. We don't look alike at all though. Everyone always kept asking me if I was sure she was my sister." Wilmur chuckled, but shuddered as he remembered her death. "But she died when it all started so it was just me and my dad. But now it's just me."

Beth shook her head. "No, it's not. It's you and Carl now."

Wilmur smiled. "Yeah, it is."

They both stared back in the bright, orange fire as smoke filled the air. The tears from their eyes were gone now and now they were glowing as the fire reflected in their eyes. Wilmur's eyes darted to Daryl was kicking around the camp in rage. He knew why he was angry, but he couldn't push it or an argument would rise between them.

He looked up at the starry sky to see the bright moon shine through the green leafs hanging from the tall trees. If he was in the prison, he'd take the time to admire the moon and stars. But now all they reminded him of was they were outside the prison now because his father destroyed it.

He listened to the owls howling in the trees and the jar bugs chatting in the trees. He could hear crickets chirping through the fresh night air and the frogs ribbitting on logs.

But the peacefulness is interrupted when suddenly a pack of walkers stumble across the camp. They growled and reached for their prey as soon as they saw Wilmur, Beth, and Daryl.

"Shit!" Wilmur cursed.

Daryl already took off through the woods with Wilmur and Beth following from behind. He shoved Beth ahead of him to protect her and Daryl from the hungry walkers. Daryl grabbed Beth's hand and Beth grabbed Wilmur's as they ran across the deep, dark forest. The owls in hidden in the trees continued to howl and the crickets continued to chirp as walkers chased them down.

They couldn't climb up the trees due to the owls and bats awaking and they couldn't run back to the river because of the walkers in the river drowning in there. All they could do was keep running until the walkers couldn't hear them anymore.

Suddenly, thunder rumbled in the sky. The thunder would only make it worse because it would cause walkers to get more active and the rain would make it hard for them to run.

Wilmur looked in the sky as he ran which was now covered with dark clouds as it flashed blue when the thunder rumbled. He hoped Carl was safe from the storm. If he was out in the middle of the dark woods, thousands of walkers would surround him as well as the hard rain.

They suddenly stepped out of the woods and onto the first road they've seen since the prison was destroyed. They spent their entire time in the woods without seeing a trail or road. But now they've finally made it out of the deep and dark and dangerous woods.

"C'mon" Daryl whispered.

Daryl stood in the middle of the road to see a herd of walkers coming their way while Beth and Wilmur got in a car on the side of the road and tried to start up the engine but failed.

They suddenly heard the trees rustle before hearing the angry snarl of walkers. Wilmur and Beth stared at Daryl with wide eyes before he grabbed them both and shoved them in the hot trunk of the car and shut it. Daryl tied the trunk shut so no walker could get in before sitting back with Beth and Wilmur.

Wilmur and Beth's arms were wrapped around each other as they stared in fear when the herd of walkers started brushing up against the car. Sweat dripped down each of their faces as they stared with fear in their wide eyes. Wilmur gently clinged onto his knife in his belt with each thump against the car. He had to be ready just in case anything happened.

Just a few hours later, the thunder in the sky roared as ran banged against the car along with walkers thumping against it. Blue lights kept flashing before their eyes as they stared in fear. Sweat was dripping down their temples in both fear and the hot temperature in the car.

Neither of them could sleep.

The older and younger man played golf on top of the RV. They haven't played it together since their other camp was destroyed and they were desperate to play it together again. It would be refreshing to reflect on the good memories together instead of thinking of the bad stuff that happened in their camp.

The younger man hit the golf ball with his golf club and sent it flying across the air, farther than the camp. He was trying to aim for the walker hole they had but he completely missed.

"Damn it." The younger man cursed, holding his hand out for another ball. "Hand me another one."

The older man handed the younger the golf ball and watched as he set the ball on it's place.

"You know he's dead, right?" The younger man asked, referring to their old friend.

"Shumpert?" The older man questioned.

"He was never the same after Woodbury." The younger man said with sadness in his eyes as he thought of his old friend as he hit the golf ball again. "He got reckless. Biter took a piece of him right over there. I swear, he didn't try to get out of the way...I put him down myself. Right-right over there."

The older man handed the younger man a beer bottle. "I'm sorry."

The younger man shrugged. "There's just some things you can't come back from. They become a part of who you are. Either you live with them or you don't."

"Well, you seem to be living with them pretty well." The older man said to younger man who was leader of the camp.

The younger man chuckled. "So are you. That family, they brought you back. You're lucky. I couldn't-I couldn't do that again. Couldn't risk it. Couldn't sleep at night knowing I was gonna lose them."

"I'm not gonna lose them." The older man said with confidence. "What, you don't think you can keep this place safe?"

"I'll try." The younger man shrugged, hitting another golf ball. "Hopefully we'll be prepared for whatever comes. Now you're here, maybe we can share the crown a little."

The younger man hit another golf ball and grunted in frustration as he realized hitting the golf ball at the right place wasn't playing out.

"Oh, Jesus." The younger man said. "I should have taken some golf lessons before the-"

The younger man is cut off when the older man smashed his golf club against the back of his neck. The older man glared at the younger and kicked him off the RV before dragging his body down to the walker hole and throwing him in it, letting the walkers rip the flesh from his skin.

Now the older man can relax knowing his friend is dead.

Wilmur could hear the growls from the walkers slowly calm down. Every walker nearby had grown active and tried to follow the thunder rumbling in the dark clouds. However, early sunlight was seeping through the tiny hole in the trunk and shining against their sweaty faces.

The young teen darted his eyes to meet Beth's blue ones and then met Daryl's light blue ones. Sweat was dripping down their temples from the lack of sleep, the hot temperature in the trunk, and the fear. He looked down at his rock knife which was stained with blood. He had been gripping it all night just in case something went wrong. His fingers were shaking from gripping it far too long and from the lack of sleep.

He watched as Beth untied the knot tied on the trunk to keep it closed an opened it up. The bright sunlight greeted their droopy eyes and stung them. Their eyes had gotten too used to the darkness they were trapped in all night. Slowly, they each stepped out of the trunk with their stiffed legs. They looked behind them to see a dead walker lying on the road beside a car door ripped off the car.

They looked at each other before grabbing some supplies left behind in the car. Wilmur grabbed an almost empty water bottle and stuffed it in a bag he found in the dirty car. He looked at himself in a small mirror to see his skin was painted red with sweat dripping down it from being trapped in a hot trunk all night with not much oxygen.

He sighed and climbed out of the car to help Beth collect the torn items the car once had. He stood behind Beth and stared as Daryl slowly started to walk down the road.

"Where you going?" Wilmur panted.

Daryl turned around. "Where do ya think?"

"Carl left tracks back down in those woods." Wilmur pointed. "We can find them again and follow them."

Daryl scoffed. "Ain't no way I'm goin' back down to that death trap."

Wilmur glared as his fists clenched the white grocery bag held in his fists. He was getting sick and tired of Daryl's attitudes. Yeah, he lost more people than they can imagine but that was no excuse. If he wasn't going to let him find Carl then he will himself.

Beth placed a hand over Wilmur's shoulder. "He's right. We can't go back."

Wilmur's glare softened at Beth's words. He knew she was telling the truth because she was always truthful. If she said they couldn't go back, then they couldn't go back. But he was so close to tracking down Carl. If he followed his tracks a little longer, he could've easily caught up to him.

Beth noticed the look in Wilmur's eyes and stood in front of him, both of her hands on both of his shoulders. "Listen, we'll find him. I promise. But we can't go back."

The young teen sighed and nodded in agreement. He followed behind Beth down the road with his hand placed over his knife held in his belt. The road was silent and dirty with different colored leafs. No walker or dead human could be seen in sight. The only thing that could be heard was the birds singing in the trees as they greeted each other good morning.

It angered him how animals could still live a normal life but they couldn't. They didn't have wings to fly away from danger like birds do. They couldn't run from every single danger like deer do. They couldn't blend in like some frogs do. Instead, they had to live out danger together and try their best to survive.

Wilmur looked in the sky which was sprinkled with thin clouds. The sun shined down brightly and gleamed against the sweat dripping down their skin. It stung his eyes as he stared at but he didn't care. All he was focused on was finding Carl. Finding him came before shelter and sanctuary. He didn't care about his stomach screaming and growling for food. Once he finds Carl, he can relax.

It would be hard though considering Daryl thought everyone was dead but he and Beth didn't. He refused to follow any tracks left by people. He didn't care how many clues were left. He just wanted to survive and that got on Wilmur's nerves. He was going to find Carl whether anybody liked it or not.

Suddenly, Wilmur stepped in a big and sticky pile of crimson blood. He kicked the blood pile in frustration and cursed under his breath as he looked down at it. The blood was left from a person who happened to just pass by an hour or so ago. He prayed it wasn't Carl's but all he could do was hope.

"What's wrong now?" Daryl grumbled.

Wilmur looked up to glare at his ex-adoptive father. He wanted to slap him but he'd never do anything to anyone he loved. He was just angry Daryl lost all faith. He refused to believe anyone escaped the prison except them. He didn't even bother to look for anyone at all.

Daryl made his way over to the pile of blood to see Wilmur's foot stepped right in it. "Looks like someone from the prison died."

"Just stop!" Beth yelled.

Wilmur rolled his eyes. "Great lets get outta here before another herd comes."

Beth glared but her eyes immediately softened as she gripped onto her knife. Her blue eyes darted to the woods where it was silent besides the birds singing good morning. She looked back at Daryl and Wilmur for permission and they both nodded.

Daryl took the lead and stepped in the woods with Wilmur and Beth following behind. Wilmur pulled his crimson knife out of his belt and held it up as he stumbled through the forest. He looked to his left to see a small bird searching for worms. He threw his knife right through it's stomach, killing it.

He pulled the knife out of the bird's body before picking the bird up and tying it to his shoulder. He made his way over to two very tiny tents to see Beth starting a fire.

"Did you make this camp yourself?" Wilmur asked and Beth shook her head.

He sighed and sat by the fire before carefully putting thick sticks above the burning fire. As carefully as he could, he tied the dead bird on the thick branch for it to cook. He watched as the bird slowly turned to a dark color as it cooked above the fire. As soon as it was done, he yanked it off the knot and branch and stuffed it in his mouth.

Neither one of them has eaten in a week or more. They were either running, killing walkers, or searching for Carl. But they finally have to time to sit down and eat.

Daryl came up behind them with an unskinned snake, squirrel, and drink bottle held in his hands. He threw the drink to the floor and tied the snake and squirrel against the thick branch above the fire. Daryl split the snake in half as soon as it finished and handed one half to Beth while he handed the squirrel to Wilmur. He could see the disgust look on her face as she stuffed a little bit of the snake in her mouth.

Wilmur looked down at his half eaten bird before handing it to Beth. "You can have my bird."

"No thanks." Beth rejected.

Wilmur threw the half eaten bird in front of her. "I still have my squirrel. That should be enough."

Beth sighed and handed the snake over to Wilmur before she stuffed little pieces of the cooked bird in her mouth. It tasted much better than the snake did but it still wasn't as good. Like Wilmur, she was sick and tired of hunting for their food every day and running from walkers every second. She just wanted to be with the ones she loved in a safe place.

Because of the Governor, they lost everything they worked so hard for and everyone they loved very much. They weren't just running from the walkers. They were running from the sadness as well. But they both knew they couldn't escape it unless they were reunited with their loved ones.

Wilmur didn't know how to escape the excruciating pain, but Beth did. She wasn't just going to sit by soaked in her own tears. There had to be a way out of it.

"I need a drink." Beth suddenly said, referring to alcohol.

Daryl grabbed the sun drop bottle and through it at her as he continued to eat his snake. Wilmur rolled his eyes at how stupid Daryl was being. Does he not understand anything they say?

Beth moved the sun drop bottle beside her. "No, I mean a real drink. As in alcohol."

Daryl ignored her and continued eating his cooked snake, causing Wilmur to scoff. Talking to Daryl was like talking to a brick wall. He never answered them anymore. All he cared about was trying to survive himself instead of looking for people who survived the prison incident.

"I've never had one." Beth continued. "Cause' of my dad. But he's not exactly around anymore, so..."

Wilmur remembered how strict Hershel was on alcohol in the prison. If he caught anyone drinking at all, he would take the bottle away. He always told him not to drink because it could lead you to getting drunk. And drunk can lead you to death.

Beth and Wilmur watched as Daryl continued eating his cooked snake. "I thought we could go find some."

Wilmur scoffed again when Daryl didn't answer. "My God, Daryl. Beth is talking to you."

"I hear her." Daryl snapped.

"Then why aren't you answering her?" Wilmur questioned.

Daryl glared at him. "Cause' she ain't asking a question."

Beth scoffed. "Fine. I'll get some on my own." She said as she grabbed her knife and walked in the woods.

Wilmur shot Daryl a simple glare. He was willing to let one of the most innocent people in the world go off in the woods on their own. He didn't seem to care about anything or anyone anymore like Justin did. He didn't feel like stopped Daryl from turning cold, and he didn't want to try. He just needed to wipe his rage off his hands and find Carl.

He tucked his knife in his belt and followed Beth in the woods, leaving Daryl. He followed Beth to a bunch of poison ivy and bushes filled with thorns. He kept his hand over his knife held in his belt just in case anything jumped out of nowhere.

"Jerk." Wilmur heard Beth spat before she turned her head to look at him. "Sorry."

Wilmur shook his head. "It's fine. He is being a jerk."

Suddenly, a walker herd came out of nowhere. Beth and Wilmur were quick to hide behind a wide and thick tree with their knives pulled out of their belts. Beth bent down to pick up a small rock and threw it somewhere else so the walkers could walker toward the noise.

The walkers did what Beth thought and walked toward the rock where it was thrown while one walker stumbled to the tree they were hiding behind. However, it decided to follow the herd of walkers instead. Wilmur relaxed and tucked his knife back in his belt before flinching when he heard a branch crack.

He and Beth quickly turned around to see Daryl with his crossbow held up. Daryl glared at them before turning around and walking back the same way with him and Beth following.

"I think we made it a way." Beth said, following Daryl with Wilmur behind her. "I'm pretty sure we gotta go that way to find a booze."

Suddenly, they stumbled across the same, tiny camp they were staying in. Daryl stepped over the tires that were used to signal noise if a walker were to stumble across them. He kicked it by an accident, causing it to hit Beth and Wilmur's legs.

"What the hell?" Beth said angrily. "You brought us back to the camp. We're not staying in this suck-ass camp!"

Beth stuck up her middle finger toward Daryl before trying to walk off with Wilmur, but he yanked them both back by their wrists. Wilmur winced as Daryl yanked his broken wrist back, but Beth pushed Daryl's hand off his broken wrist before rubbing it gently with her thumb to make it feel better.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel anything?" Beth said angrily. "Yeah, you think everything's screwed. I guess that's a feeling. But that's no excuse to grab Wilmur and tell him that his own boyfriend is dead!"

"It's the truth!" Daryl yelled. "He has no idea where his boyfriend is!"

"That's why I'm gonna find him!" Wilmur yelled with rage and anger boiling his veins. "I'm not leaving him alone in the woods whether like it or not! I love him and I'm not gonna abandon him like you are!"

Daryl growled. "I'm not abandoning him! I'm not risking my life to save a person whose already dead!"

"He is not dead!" Wilmur yelled. "I can search for Carl like I did on my own before! If you believe he's dead then fine but I don't think he is! I saw him escape with Rick with my own eyes! So don't force me to stop looking for him!"

"I'm not forcing you!" Daryl growled. "I'm saving your life from getting killed over nothing!"

"Carl isn't nothing! He's something very special to me!" Wilmur yelled as tears began to stream down his face. "Do you not understand what love is?! Do you not know what I went through to keep Carl safe?! I fucking kept him safe for a reason! I'm not gonna let it be all over nothing!"

Tears poured down his cheeks with each word screaming out of his mouth. He didn't care if he was attracting walkers anymore. He was sick of Daryl assuming his boyfriend is dead.

"He's right! We might as well do somethin'!" Beth yelled. "I'm gonna get myself a damn drink. Then we're goin' to look for Carl whether you like it or not!"

Daryl glared at both of them as the angry Beth and upset Wilmur walked off in the woods. He didn't know why Beth and Wilmur were risking their lives over nothing. There was no point in finding Carl at all. Even if he was alive, Wilmur was never gonna see him again.

He growled in frustration and followed Beth and Wilmur out of the green woods. He held his crossbow up just in case they happen to pass any walker or human. They stepped in a green, golf course field. A large portion of the grass was dead due to not anyone watering it for the past two years. Up ahead was a golf building which could most likely have a bar.

"Golfers like to booze it up, right?" Beth questioned.

Wilmur immediately thought of his father and how he loved to play golf. After every single game, his father would go to the bar in the golf building and get two beers. His father was a huge fan of golf. He played it almost everyday and taught him and Penny how to play. Eventually, it became a family tradition for them.

They looked ahead to see walkers stumbling up the field. However, Beth simply ignored them and walked the other way toward the golf building. Wilmur sniffled and followed Beth with his hand placed over his knife in his belt. A walker jumped out from behind a fallen golf cart and grabbed Beth's foot but Wilmur was quick to kill it before it could bite her leg.

Daryl past by them with a glare on his face. "It's why Carl can already be dead."

"Shut up." Wilmur growled as he followed Beth to the white building.

They stopped in front of the steps with a look of slight fear in their eyes. The building was clean and it didn't sound like many walkers were in there. The dusty grimy windows were clearer than usual and although the grass in the golf course was dead, it was cleanly mowed.

"Might be people inside." Beth said.

Wilmur pulled out his knife and stepped forward but was immediately pulled back by Daryl. A death glare was visible in his eyes as he leaned in his face and growled.

"Do you wanna get killed?" Daryl tested him.

Wilmur yanked away and glared back. "I have to know if Carl's in there."

"Forget Carl." Daryl spat before turning to Beth. "Forget the damn drink!"

"No!" Beth yelled. "I came here for a reason and I'm not leaving!"

Daryl turned back to Wilmur. "What the hell's wrong with you?! You-you let Beth get a drink but you didn't let Bob have any!"

"That was different!" Wilmur yelled. "He chose liquor over his own friends! Beth's not! She's doing it because she wants one!"

"Bob wanted some, too!" Daryl yelled. "He got it for when it gets quiet just like she is!"

Beth turned to glare at Daryl. "I'm not doin' what Bob did! I just need some, all right?! You don't have to come in if you don't want to but I'm goin' in! With or without you!"

Daryl glared at both of them with his fists clenching his crossbow as he gritted his teeth. Beth was making the same mistake Bob had made and he knew Wilmur knew it. Wilmur didn't want to stop her because she was one of the couple people he had left and he didn't want to believe they would make a mistake like Bob did.

Even though Bob chose something over one another many times, Daryl knew he and Wilmur both missed him. Daryl couldn't see it but Wilmur could just like he could see why Bob kept getting liquor so many times. It was in case something happened to the prison and he ended up all alone for the third time.

Now something did happen to the prison and they were all alone with darkness following them everywhere they go. They could use anything to make them feel better. They wanted to fight off the pain in every way they can just like Bob did.

If Wilmur could get his hands on a drink, maybe he could make the pain go away just like Bob was able to. He knew he was far too young and wasn't even sixteen yet, but those rules didn't apply anymore. They were all gone just like everyone else was gone.

He and Daryl followed Beth up the steps. She tried to open the locked door, but it refused to open. They looked back in the field to see the herd of walkers growing closer and closer. Wilmur kept hand over the knife in his belt as he followed Beth and Daryl to another door.

As quietly as he could, Daryl creaked open the door with a golf club held in his other hand. He peaked inside to make sure they couldn't see any walkers or humans.

"C'mon." Daryl said when the coast was clear.

Wilmur quietly shut the door behind him before looking up at the ceiling where walkers were tied to the ceiling. The tight ropes were wrapped around their throats as they snarled louder when they saw the fresh meat in front of them.

Daryl picked up a flashlight off the wooden floor and shined it on the walkers. A lot of them were wearing golfing uniforms like the golf players wore it on the sports channel. No blood was printed on their cloths which meant they most likely killed themselves. If someone killed them, you would think blood would be left on their cloths.

The flashlight shined on the wooden floor where dead walkers laid with no blood. One of them was a teenage boy about his age with fresh cloths covering him. It's flannel was colored grey with little white stripes against it. The pants were blue jeans and the dirty shoes were converse.

Wilmur sighed and unbuttoned the flannel off him before untying the shoes and taking them off. He pulled off the pants to leave the dead, teenage boy in his boxers.

"What're ya doin'?" Daryl asked.

"Changing." Wilmur replied. "I can't stay in these cloths any longer."

Daryl scoffed and shined the flashlight down on his cloths which was a vest he's wore since the beginning. He never took it off or bothered to change at all. He didn't care about the cloths he wore anymore because it couldn't protect you from the walkers. He knew eventually the cloths would get soggy from the blood and dirt but he didn't care. He's felt much worse things than soggy and bloody cloths.

He shined the flashlight on Wilmur who was walking behind a cloths rack filled with different golf uniforms. He didn't understand why Wilmur didn't just pick a golf uniforms because they were more stiff and could last a lot longer without getting dirty much.

Wilmur looked up and glared to see Daryl shining the flashlight right on him. "Don't look."

Daryl scoffed and looked away as Wilmur started to change. He could see his ribcages were swollen from being broken and some bruises on his hips and sides were infected because too much dirt and blood got in it. He winced as he brushed his fingers against one of the wounds and bit his lip to keep himself from shrieking.

He needed to desperately rest and heal, but he couldn't until he found Carl. The second he starts to rest, Carl will get farther and farther away. He needed to find him as fast as he can before any other danger beats him to him.

Wilmur ignored the wounds and buttoned up his grey flannel before taking his crimson, bloody shoes off and pulling up his new blue jeans. He put the dirty converse on and tied up the strings before stepping out from behind the cloths rack to see Beth reaching for a small glass with wine barely in it and Daryl stuffing money and jewelry in a fancy, black bag.

"What're you doing?" Wilmur asked Daryl, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

Beth turned around after hearing Wilmur to see Beth stuffing money and jewelry in a bag. "Why are you keeping all that stuff?"

Daryl just stared at both of them as he continued to stuff supplies they didn't need in the black bag. All three of them flinched when walkers started banging on the door that Daryl locked with a golf club. Daryl quickly stuffed the last of the money and jewelry in the bag before rushing to another room with Beth and Wilmur behind him.

Wilmur slammed the door shut before picking up a golf club and locking it through the handles just like Daryl did with the other door. He kept his hand placed over his knife as he followed Daryl and Beth in another room. Wilmur searched the small shelves in the room for supplies.

He followed Beth in another dark room filled with trash and containers. He searched the containers for any kind of food or bullets hiding in there but couldn't find any. He looked back up to see Beth shining her flashlight against rubber curtains. He followed her through them and into another room which had tomato sauce and one beer bottle in it.

Beth climbed up on the shelf to reach for beer bottle while Wilmur reached for the tomato sauce. He knew it wasn't really food but it was definitely better than nothing. The pans clattered against the floor as they stepped back on it. He stuffed the tomato sauce in his small bag just before a walker suddenly jumped on Beth.

Wilmur was quick to yank his knife out of his belt and shove the walker against the wall before smashing his knife in it's skull. He threw the walker to the floor in rage and began kicking it's skull opened. Beth pulled him away from the walker and looked up at Daryl who was standing right in front of them.

"Oh, so you let Wilmur almost get himself killed?" Beth said angrily.

Daryl scoffed. "Wilmur can take care of himself. Why do ya think he's not my son anymore?"

Beth clenched her beer bottle tighter as a growl threatened to escape her gritted teeth. Her eyes softened when she stared at Wilmur who now had fresh blood on his cheeks and left shoe. It was because of Daryl, Wilmur already had blood on his new cloths.

Daryl shot them both a glare before walking to another room, leaving Wilmur and Beth to search the room beside them which had sunlight slipping through. On the wall had painted, black words which said welcome to the dog trot. Metal shelves had cloths and bags laying on it with dead bodies laying on the ground below them.

They groaned as they covered their noses from the stench filling the disgusting air of the nasty building. Wilmur quickly rushed out of the room with Beth behind him and followed Daryl down a stair way. At the bottom laid trophies with golfing men on it with a fallen shelf beside it.

Daryl crawled under the shelf with Wilmur and Beth just behind him. He shined the flashlight against the glass particles on the floor that came from the broken trophies. He kicked tiny pieces of the glass on Wilmur's cheeks by an accident, scraping blood across his face.

"Oh, gee. Thanks a lot." Wilmur grumbled and pushed glass right back up against Daryl in revenge.

He followed Beth to a room filled with fresh cloths. As soon as he heard Beth gasp upon stepping on a walker's hand, he yanked her away. However, the hand she stepped on wasn't a walker's but a fake model's.

"Sorry." She whispered to him but he shook his head, rejecting the apology.

Beth sighed and made her way over to a cloths rack filled with fresh and clean cloths for teenage girls while Wilmur looked at the fake models to see they had their shirts ripped off and a sign hanging from their neck written in blood as it dripped down their body.

He was starting to think instead of the people killing themselves, someone came in and killed them all in a horrible way. Blood was stained against the fake models and the wooden floors. A single bullet was in one of the fake model's hand. Slowly, he grasped it from them and put it in his pistol. He was out of ammo for a week or more and was lucky he survived without his gun. But now he had one bullet and he had to make it count.

He looked at one of the bloody, fake models that had a sign written in blooded around her neck that said rich bitch. Beth and Daryl shined their bright flashlights on it. Wilmur looked at Beth who had a new and clean, yellow shirt on with a white over shirt over it. Her new cloths smelled much better than her last ones but blood was bound to stain against it just like it did on the fake models.

Beth tried to move it to take it down, but she struggled as she done so. She couldn't leave the fake model like that. It would be too brutal and cold.

"Help me take her down." Beth said, looking up at Wilmur and Daryl.

Wilmur shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter." Beth retorted.

Daryl and Wilmur sighed before helping Beth take the model down. As soon as Wilmur touched it, he realized it wasn't a model but a real person who was killed and tied up where a fake model should lay. Daryl picked up a purple sheet from the floor and threw it on the dead woman so they didn't have to take it down.

"There." Daryl said.

Beth sighed and followed Daryl out of the room with Wilmur staying behind to look at the dead woman one last time before following them out of the room. He flinched when a clock started chiming and looked back at it before deciding to ignore it and follow Daryl.

They stopped in a doorway to see a few or more walkers heading their way. Beth and Wilmur quickly rushed out of the hallway and down to a bright room Wilmur stayed behind Beth with rock knife clenched in his hand as he watched Daryl take care of the walkers.

Daryl hit the one last walker with a golf club and smashed it to the floor before hitting it hard a thousand times. He hit the walker's head like hitting a golf ball and killed it. Blood splattered out of it's head and landed against Wilmur and Beth's new cloths. Beth glared at him and took off her white over shirt, leaving her in her yellow shirt while walking out of the room.

Wilmur turned to glare at Daryl before following Beth out to see a small bar. A smile crept on Beth's lips as she stared at the bar, her grip on her flashlight loosening. She could finally get her hands on liquor and drink all the pain away. She knew the pain would come right back after she wasn't drunk anymore, but she needed to get her mind off everything like Wilmur needed to.

"We made it." Beth said, looking back at Daryl. "I know you think this is stupid. And it probably is. But...I don't care. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry, but we don't get to do that. So...beat up walkers if that makes you both feel better. I need to do this."

Wilmur watched as Beth walked in the bar and looked back at Daryl. "Me, too." He said and followed Beth in the bar.

He wasn't absolutely sure about drinking since he was so young, but he was absolutely sure he wanted the pain to go away even for a few minutes. Beating walkers in the most brutal way didn't help him at all. It just made him feel worse because it reminded him of what they've done to the world.

However, if he drank too much liquor, he would see the world in a new light. The pain would sink away for a while and it would bring him relief. He didn't want to get frustrated or worry about Carl too much. All he wanted was to be with Carl. But he wasn't there and he needed something else to lessen the pain.

The bar was filled with broken and empty beer bottles laying everyone on the tables and the bar. Glass particles covered every spot in the room. A pool table laid at the side with it's balls laying across the table.

He remembered how much his uncle loved beer. He heard he always got drunk when he was a teen but when he was born, he was strict on the amount of beers he drank. He allowed himself to only have two once a week. His mother was hesitate to let him go there, but she let him and he got along well with his uncle.

However, he knew he was dead just like his entire family was. He didn't try to escape with him, Philip, and Penny. Instead, he stayed behind and died. Now the entire Blake family was dead except him. If he died, the Blake family would be deceased.

Wilmur followed Beth behind the bar, looking for any good bottle or drink. He watched as Beth pulled out a full bottle of liquor and stared down at it. It was obvious to him she was nervous. She never had a drink because her father told her to never drink. But now she was breaking his rule.

"Get me a glass." Wilmur said. "I want some, too."

Beth furrowed her eyebrows. "You sure?

Wilmur nodded. "Yeah. I don't care if I'm too young."

Beth hesitated, but grabbed a glass anyway an handed it to Wilmur. Some part of her was protective over him, and she didn't want him drinking. However, it wasn't her choice because those rules didn't apply anymore.

The sound of glass breaking turned Wilmur's and Beth's attention to Daryl who broke a glass picture and was pulling the picture out of the broken glass frame.

Beth scoffed, walking out from behind the bar with Wilmur behind her. "Did you have to break the glass?"

"No." Daryl grumbled. "You have your drink yet?"

"No." Beth replied, holding up her and Wilmur's beer bottle. "But we found this."

Wilmur sat next to Beth and stared at the clear liquor in the bottle. His fingers were already shaking because he was so nervous to drink his first liquor, especially since he was too young. But he had to drink the pain away because there was no other way until he found Carl.

The young teen gently stroked the beer bottle with his trembling fingers. His fingers traced over the title as he stared at the liquor inside, reminding him of Bob. He remembered how he was puking out blood in the car and Bob gave him a beer bottle to force the blood to go back down his veins. He couldn't remember how the liquor tasted, but he remembered how much Bob wanted to drink it.

"Peach schnapps?" Wilmur questioned with nervousness as his fingers traced over the title.

Beth nodded, gently grasping his hands when she heard the nervous tone in his voice. "You don't have to do this. I bet it's not even good."

"It ain't." Daryl replied from behind them.

Beth sighed. "Well, it's the only thing left."

Daryl ignored her and picked up darts from a dart board, beginning to throw them at a frame showing pictures of eight, famous people all in a circle. He was hoping it would make him feel better, but he knew it wouldn't."

While Daryl threw darts at the pictures, Beth poured a glass for Wilmur and handed it to him. His fingers grasped onto his cup as he stared at it with nervousness in his eyes. His fingers were shaking nearly to death as he stared at the clear liquor in his glass cup.

Tears of frustration started filling his crystal blue eyes as he stared down at the liquor. They slowly began to drip down his cheeks as sobs escaped his lips. His eyes darted to Beth who was struggling to lift up the bottle and put it in her mouth. Tears were dripping down her cheeks as well as they stared at the liquor.

No matter how much they wanted to get rid of the pain and put the liquor on their tongue, they couldn't. In the past, they were taught not to drink when they were young but they weren't crying just because of that. They were crying because their parents told them not to drink. It reminded them of their loving parents far too much that they were scared to death to drink it.

Suddenly, Daryl grabbed the liquor bottle and Wilmur's glass and threw it to the floor, shattering it to pieces. They stared at the new glass particles spreading across the floor and sinking in the liquor.

Daryl turned to look at them with a simple glare in his eyes. "Ain't gonna have y'all's first drink be no damned peach schnapps."

They watched as Daryl picked up his crossbow and walked out of the building. They both knew he was going to get them some liquor that actually tasted good. Something that would actually calm their frustrating and anger down.

"C'mon." Daryl said.

Wilmur and Beth obeyed, getting up from their chairs and following Daryl out of the golf building. They stepped back in the green woods with their hands placed over their knives. He sniffled as he looked up at the green leafs on the trees. The sunlight shined brightly through them and gleamed on their skin.

Wilmur wiped another tear trailing down his cheek and sniffled. He was still nervous about having his first drink and he shouldn't be. This was something that would ease the pain for a while. It should be something that'll bring him relief.

"A motorcycle mechanic." Beth suddenly said.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows at her. He didn't know what she was talking about like Daryl didn't. He turned his head to look at her with his furrowed eyebrows.

"Huh?" Daryl said.

"That's my guess." Beth replied. "For what you were doin' before the turn. Did Zach ever guess that one?"

Daryl sighed. "It don't matter. Hasn't mattered for a long time."

"It's just what people talk about, you know, to feel normal." Beth said. "Wilmur talks about his past all the time."

"Yeah, well, that never felt normal for me." Daryl grumbled.

Wilmur rolled his eyes at Daryl, still clutching his knife just in case anything popped out. He heard about what the old Daryl was like in the beginning of the outbreak. He was ruthless and cold along with his older brother. But he softened over time because he had a family who cared for him. But now he's lost that family.

However, Daryl didn't understand. Wilmur lost his entire family. His father, his mother, and his sister was gone. Now he was all alone with no one to understand him. Even though he hated his father so much, some part of him still loved him.

Wilmur sighed and closed his eyes as he followed Daryl to a small, wooden building in the middle of the woods. There was a small garden filled with all kinds of decorations. He furrowed his eyebrows at it because he was expecting a bar, not a house.

"Found this place with Michonne." Daryl said.

"When?" Wilmur asked. He always went on a run with Daryl and never found that place.

Daryl shrugged. "It was a few months after everything with the Governor ended."

Beth stared at it with furrowed eyebrows. She hadn't expected a house either. She thought she was see a huge bar with liquor painted all over the counters but instead she found a small, wooden house with a garden.

"I was expecting a liquor store." Beth said.

"No, this is better." Daryl replied, walking toward the building.

They followed Daryl behind a small building to see an even smaller one from behind. He creaked open the brown door and picked up some bottles, putting them in a crate before picking the crate up.

"What is it?" Beth asked, curiousness filling her light blue eyes.

Daryl handed the crate to her. "Moonshine."

Wilmur remembered moonshine was his uncle's favorite liquor. That was the only beer he would see if he opened his refrigerator for a small snack or a cold drink. He learned it might taste bad after the first sip but would taste better after the second.

Beth carried the liquor in the small, filthy building. Daryl held his crossbow up while Wilmur held up his pistol. He looked around the filthy, small building, making sure no walkers happened to slip in. He sat down on one of the yellow chairs crowding a table filled with papers and dirty dishes.

He gently brushed his fingers against his swollen ribcages through his shirt and winced before looking down at his three broken fingers. He could still feel his father's fist slamming against his cheeks and his foot bashing his ribcages. He can still see the glare in his cold, blue eye.

His father was the cause for all the pain Wilmur was having. He was the reason why he was about to drink some liquor which he would probably regret in the future. But he needed to sink all the pain away at least for a few hours.

Beth set the crate filled with moonshine in front of him before sitting in the next yellow chair. Daryl blew the dirt and filth off his dirty hands before grabbing two cups and pouring the moonshine in it.

"All right." Daryl whispered to himself, pouring the moonshine in their cups and setting it in front of them. "That's a real first drink right there."

Beth and Wilmur stared nervously at the cups with a little bit of moonshine in it. Fear was creeping in Wilmur's eyes while nervousness crept in Beth's. His fingers were trembling as he rested them against his lap while he stared through the clear liquor of moonshine.

"What's the matter?" Daryl asked when he noticed the look in Beth and Wilmur's eyes.

"I'm really nervous to drink it." Wilmur replied.

"Me, too." Beth admitted. "My dad always said bad moonshine can make you go blind."

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't nothing worth seeing out there anymore. Besides, it's really good."

Wilmur sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm still nervous."

Beth placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll go first."

A tiny smile forced across Wilmur's lips, showing relief and nervousness as he watched Beth take a tiny sip of the moonshine liquor. She scrunched her nose up as soon as the liquor landed against her active taste buds.

"That's the most disgusting thing I ever tasted." Beth said, her nose still scrunched up.

Daryl shrugged, motioning for her to try it again. Beth sighed and took another tiny sip of the moonshine, drinking the entire thing when the new taste landed against her tongue. A smile crept on her lips as the moonshine forced her taste buds to activate against the strong liquor.

Beth chuckled. "Second round's better. Try it Wilmur. It's not bad after your first taste."

Wilmur's breath trembled nervously as his fingers weakly grasped the small cup filled with not much liquor. He could see his bruised reflection and the fear in his eyes just by looking at it. He hesitated as he lifted the glass up and placed it in his mouth, opening his lips to let the moonshine on his tongue.

He squinted his eyes at the disgusting taste and coughed in the cup, causing Beth to chuckle and pat his back. His nose scrunched up as he went for the second round, letting the strong liquor spread across his active taste buds as it positively reacted with his tongue. He pulled the cup out of his mouth, smiling as he looked down at it.

Beth giggled. "It's good, isn't?"

Wilmur chuckled and let Beth pour more moonshine in his glass cup before she poured some in hers. He started to drink more of the moonshine and liked it even better with his third taste.

"Slow down." Daryl told Wilmur and Beth.

Beth smiled. "This one's for you."

"Nah, I'm good." Daryl rejected.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows at Daryl as he drank his liquor. He could already see Daryl in different colored cloths because it tasted so good. He didn't understand why Daryl wouldn't want to have the good liquor.

"Why?" Beth asked, curiousness filling her eyes.

Like Wilmur thought, the moonshine tasted really good after a couple or few tastes. After all, he and Michonne was the one who found it after all.

"Someone's gotta keep watch." Daryl replied.

Beth shrugged. "So, what, you're like my chaperone now?"

"Just enjoy it, Daryl. Relax for a while." Wilmur told him.

Daryl shook his head. "We can't."

"You mean you can't?" Beth corrected.

"Just drink lots of water." Daryl said, walking over to the window to board it up.

"Yes, ." Beth replied, drinking her moonshine.

Wilmur couldn't tell if Daryl and Beth were joking or arguing again. Daryl was very protective over himself when it came to survival. He hardly risked anything that would cause any death. He never seemed to relax. Even at the prison since he went on runs every single day.

Boarding up the windows was something Daryl always did. If he found some simple shelter, the first thing he would do was board up the doors and windows. He never wanted anything dead or alive breaking in even though he had a rope with metal on it and it would cling if a walker or human happened to come in their shelter.

Daryl needed to relax though. He hasn't relaxed ever since the outbreak started and that was about two years ago. All he ever managed to do was look after the group and go on dangerous runs with Glenn.

Wilmur missed Glenn. He and Hershel was one of the most good men alive in the entire destroyed world. They were both willing to risk their lives for the entire group just to keep everyone alive.

It was why Wilmur desperately needed a drink so he could get drunk and forget about everyone they've lost for at least a few hours. He needed to see the world in a bright light instead of a dark one.

Beth got up from her yellow chair and searched the room while he continued to drink moonshine and Daryl boarded up the walls. After the glass got empty, he would pour more moonshine in and drink it in fifteen seconds. The moonshine forced his taste buds to act crazy against the strong liquor as it spreaded across his tongue. He poured another glass and watched as Beth pulled out a pink, plastic bra and chuckled when she chucked.

"Who'd go into a store and walk out with this?" Beth questioned, chuckling.

The pink, plastic bra had millions of used cigarettes in it with some falling out of it and falling to the filthy floor. Wilmur giggled in his liquor as he drank it upon seeing the plastic bra filled with cigarettes.

"My dad, that's who." Daryl replied as he boarded up the windows. "Oh, he's a dumbass. He'd set those up on top of the TV set, use them as target practice."

If Wilmur wasn't drinking too much liquor, it would've reminded him of his father but he couldn't think of him because of the moonshine forcing his broken heart to be happy. He knew Daryl's father was a bit physically and mentally abusive toward him and Merle.

"He shot things inside your house?" Beth questioned, shock filling her pale blue eyes.

"It was just a bunch of junk anyway." Daryl replied, shrugging. "That's how I knew what this place was. That shed out there, my dad had a place just like this. You got your dumpster chair. That's for sitting in and your drawers all summer drinking. Got your fancy buckets. That's for spitting chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smoking."

Wilmur listened to Daryl as he drank too much moonshine. He watched as Daryl walked over to a newspaper and pick it up, showing it to Beth.

"You got your-your internet." Daryl continued, throwing it on the floor before turning to look at him. "What about your dad, Wilmur?"

The young teen coughed as he drank the liquor, pulling it out of his mouth. "My dad was nothing like that. Believe it or not, we lived in a nice home with internet."

"That's hard to believe." Daryl said.

Wilmur shrugged. "He wasn't bad until the outbreak."

Walkers suddenly interrupted them from outside. While Wilmur continued drinking his liquor, Daryl stared out the boarded and half opened window to see one walker.

"It's just one of 'em." Daryl said.

"Should be get it?" Beth questioned quickly.

Daryl shrugged. "If it keeps making too much noise, yeah."

Beth looked at a moonshine jar laying in the floor and picked it up, smiling as she looked at it. "Well, if we're gonna be trapped again, we might as well make the best of it. Enjoy it like Wilmur is. Unless you're too busy chaperoning, ."

Daryl looked back at Wilmur to see him drinking far too much moonshine far too fast. Immediately after the bottle went empty, he grabbed another moonshine jar and filled it right up again to finish it in fifteen seconds.

He sighed and grabbed the jar filled with moonshine. "Hell, might as well make the best of it."

Daryl sat in the sofa and opened the jar up, not bothering to pour it in a glass. Wilmur smiled and shifted his position in his yellow chair so he could face Daryl and Beth. He continued pouring more and more moonshine in his glass and drank more than enough.

Beth smiled as she watched Wilmur finally smile. He's been upset and depressed way too much since the prison was destroyed and she was glad to finally find a way to cheer him up. She knew nothing could get rid of the pain of missing Carl, but at least the liquor could help him deal with it.

Wilmur grabbed another filled jar and poured more moonshine in his glass before drinking it all up in fifteen seconds. He stared at Daryl who was enjoying the liquor himself. He smiled as he watched Daryl drink while he drank. It was the first time since the prison was destroyed that Daryl was finally enjoying himself like he was.

However, Wilmur wanted more. He wanted to do something extra fun and something like playful torturing to get rid of the silence between all of them.

"Hey, can we play a game?" Wilmur asked, smiling as he held up his glass cup filled with moonshine. "I mean, something that has to do with this of course."

Beth smirked and nodded. "I know the perfect game but you'll have to sit over here."

Wilmur grinned and made his way over to Daryl and Beth, sitting down on the floor with his filled glass cup held in his hand. Beth moved a black crate between all of them and set a jar of moonshine on it along with their glass cups.

"So first I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch between us." Beth said.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He's never played this game before or really anything. His father and older brother always kept him locked up in the house with no games.

"You really don't know this game?" Beth questioned.

Daryl shrugged. "I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Wait," Beth said in confusion. "Are we starting?"

Daryl shrugged off the question. "How do y'all know this game?"

"My friends played." Beth replied. "I watched."

"And me and my best friend Anne played it all the time." Wilmur replied.

Wilmur missed Anne. She was very friendly, sweet, and funny. They always cracked a joke with each other and was always able to make each other laugh. They were partners on every single project they had in school and played different games together. But right now, the sweet liquor was making him happy so he didn't have time to mourn.

"I'll start." Beth said. "Daryl. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Daryl picked up his jar, taking a sip. "Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm-up." Beth retorted. "Now you go."

"I don't know." Daryl replied.

"Just say the first thing that pops in your head and challenge one of us."

Daryl groaned. "Wilmur. I've never been out of Georgia."

"Really?" Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows, taking a sip of his moonshine. "That's a shocker."

Beth was also shocked. It was weird to find that he never even went to the state below or above him. Everyone she knew went out of the state at least once on their life. One of her friends even went out of the country.

"Beth." Wilmur challenged. "I've never attempted suicide."

Beth flinched as she remembered how she tried to kill herself back at her father's farm because she was too depressed over her mother's death. Slowly, she picked up her glass and drank it.

Wilmur's eyes saddened. He knew he shouldn't have said that. He was only trying to get himself to drink more moonshine.

"Daryl. I've never..." Beth thought for a moment. "Been drunk and did something I regretted."

Daryl picked up his jar and began drinking the moonshine, letting the strong taste spread across his taste buds before putting it back down. "Wilmur. I've never been on vacation."

"What?!" Wilmur said, his eyebrows furrowed. He hesitantly picked up his glass and drank the moonshine, pouring more in his glass afterwards. "Now that's really shocking. Anyway, Beth. I've never gotten in a fight with my sister."

"Really? That's a bit shocking." Beth said, shock filling her eyes as she drank her moonshine. "Wilmur. I've never had to go to the hospital."

Wilmur smiled and drank his moonshine. After he broke up with Kevin, he punched him way too many times and he lost too much blood that he had to go to the hospital.

"Daryl." Wilmur said. "I've never ran away from home before the outbreak started."

Daryl picked up his jar and took a sip of his moonshine. He remembered running away when he was ten or eleven but came back home a couple or few days later.

"Wilmur." Daryl challenged. "I've never loved someone so much in a romantic way that I'd literally kill myself for them and make someone suffer the most painful death ever."

Wilmur thought of Carl and Kevin as he picked up his glass cup and took a tiny sip. He loved Kevin and Carl so much, but Kevin betrayed him in the end. However, after Kevin, he found a new love he'd literally do anything for.

"Beth." Wilmur challenged. "I've never skipped school."

Beth smirked. "Drink up."

The young teen laughed and took more than one sip of his moonshine.

"Daryl." Beth challenged. "I've never...been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner."

Wilmur stared at Daryl whose eyes are slowly starting to show anger, and that's when Wilmur knew Beth shouldn't have said that. Even though Daryl got drunk and did something he regretted, even though he beat up thousands of people, he's never been to jail, nor prison.

Merle was sent to jail thousands of times, but Daryl never was. He was always the sweet and soft one compared to his older brother. He was nothing like his brother and it hurt Daryl to think Beth thought he was a bad person before the outbreak.

"Is that what y'all think I am?" Daryl questioned both of them.

"I didn't need anything serious." Beth defended herself. "I just thought, you know, like the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day."

"Drink up." Daryl said, pointing at her glass of moonshine.

"Wait." Beth quickly said. "Prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?"

A small and simple glare was creeping up in Daryl's blue eyes. He was tired of Beth and Wilmur accusing him of everything. If he beat someone up to protect someone he loved, they'd be disappointed in him for it.

He curled his hand into a fist as he glared at Beth. "No."

Beth just kept the same smile on her face. However, Wilmur could tell there was regret through that smile on her lips. She didn't mean to accuse Daryl of anything. She just thought of his older brother who convinced him to do terrible things and caused him to go to jail. But she quickly realized that wasn't true.

"It's your turn again." Beth said, trying to shake off the anger in Daryl's eyes.

Daryl ignored Beth and pushed himself off the wooden floor. He stepped over Wilmur's legs and headed for the corner of the building. "I'm gonna take a piss."

He smashed his jar of moonshine down on the floor and unzipped the zipper on his pants, not caring how loud he was being.

"Shh." Wilmur said, his broken index finger placed over his lips.

"You have to be quiet." Beth snapped.

Daryl ignored them. "Can't hear y'all! I'm taking a piss!"

Beth put a strict look in her blue eyes as she stared at the archer. "Daryl, don't talk so loud." She growled quietly.

"What, are y'all my chaperone, now?!" Daryl yelled while he pissed in the floor.

Wilmur glared at Daryl and rolled his eyes before darting his eyes to the frustrated Beth. She knew it was wrong to snap at him earlier but she did it anyway and now he's snapped at her. However, that wasn't an excuse to start yelling and attract walkers.

"Oh, wait. It's my turn, right?" Daryl said loudly, zipping his zipper back up. "I've never-uh-never eaten frozen yogurt."

Wilmur glared at Daryl as he talked too loudly. It didn't matter if the game reminded him of his horrible past. It wasn't an excuse to start yelling at them. They were there to wash off the pain instead of rubbing it in. But Daryl didn't care. All he wanted to do was survive, not caring if Wilmur and Beth would stay alive or not.

"Never had a pet pony!" Daryl continued, hitting one of the yellow chairs. "Never got nothin' from Santa Claus! Never relied on anyone for protection before! Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything!"

"Daryl." Beth said but he continued to yell.

Wilmur quickly stood up and grabbed Daryl's arm to calm him down, but he shoved him away in rage. Anger was in his eyes and rage was boiling his veins. He never got to have a happy life before and during the outbreak while others did. Beth always got everything she wanted and Wilmur bended everything and everyone to his will.

He never got to find true love like Wilmur did! He hardly found anyone to care about because no one gave a shit about him unlike Wilmur and Beth!

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun! Like everything was a big game." Daryl continued as he shoved Wilmur away again, referring to Beth who always sang to people. "I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention!"

Beth flinched at the memory of how she tried to commit suicide but Lori took the gun away from her. Then her older sister, Maggie looked after her for hours before letting Andrea look after her. After she left and she was alone in the room, she locked herself in the bathroom and cut her arm open with a broken piece of glass from the mirror.

Wilmur stared at Beth as she flinched and moved her hand away from her glass which was almost empty. He could see the scar left on her arm from when she cut herself. He never attempted to commit suicide before. After Penny died, he wished to die along with her but he didn't attempt suicide! He wondered what happened to Beth that made her feel like she couldn't live anymore.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Daryl leaned in his bruised face and growled. "I never fell in love! Hell, I never found someone I loved so much in my entire life."

"Daryl-" Wilmur said, grasping his wrist but he yanked away. "Just calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Daryl yelled. "You got to have y'all's happy lives! Y'all got to sit around all day, watching TV and eating popcorn and goin' to school and falling in love! I didn't! I got none of that stuff!"

A walker suddenly began banging against the wooden building and snarled louder as it growled for it's food. It banged and growled louder every minute, attracting more walkers.

"Sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all of his buddies!"

"Daryl, just shut up." Beth growled.

Daryl took menacing steps toward them. "Hey, Beth. You never shot a crossbow before?! I'm gonna teach you right now!"

He yanked Wilmur and Beth up before dragging them outside harshly, ignored the wincing Wilmur gave when he pulled his broken wrist too hard.

He shoved them outside. "C'mon! It's gonna be fun!"

"We should stay inside!" Beth yelled as they were both shoved out of the wooden house. "Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!"

However, Daryl didn't listen to them and instead shot an arrow through a walker's chest. "Dumbass. Come here, dumbass!"

"Daryl, just stop!" Wilmur yelled but he didn't listen.

"You wanna shoot, Beth?!" Daryl yelled, grabbing Beth and pulling him toward her. "Help me, Wilmur!"

"No!" Wilmur yelled but then is yanked in Daryl's grip. "She doesn't know how! Just leave her alone!"

Daryl ignored him and held them both down as he forced Beth to hold the crossbow in the right corner as he yelled right in their ears. They both tried to pull away but Daryl was far too stronger than them.

"Let's practice later." Beth snapped, yanking away from his grip along with Wilmur.

"C'mon. It's fun." Daryl replied.

"Just stop this!" Wilmur growled, a death glare creeping in his eyes. "Quit acting like a bastard!"

Daryl didn't listen to them and yanked them both back in his grip, his strong arms wrapped around their necks. Wilmur desperately tried to fight against his grip but was failing due to being smaller and more injured than him. He glared as Daryl shot another arrow in the walker's chest pinned against the tree.

"Just kill it!" Beth yelled.

"C'mon, Blake!" Daryl yelled at Wilmur. "Let's pull these out and help Beth with a little more target practice!"

Beth rushed ahead of Wilmur and smashed her knife through the walker's skull, killing it. Daryl growled and took menacing steps toward her with Wilmur slowly pulling his pistol out of his holster wrapped around his leg. He wouldn't necessarily shoot Daryl but he had to get him off Beth.

"What the hell you do that for?! I was having fun!" Daryl yelled.

"No, you were being a jackass!" Beth yelled. "If anyone found my dad-"

"Don't!" Daryl yelled stepping in Beth's face and gritting his teeth. "That ain't remotely the same!"

Beth stepped back in Daryl's face, gritting her teeth as well. "Killing them is not suppose to be fun!"

"What'd you want from me, guys?!" Daryl stepped in his and Beth's faces.

"We want you to shut the hell up!" Wilmur screamed as loud as he could.

He didn't care if he was attracting walkers anymore. He was sick of Daryl's attitude! All he wanted to do was put himself before anything and anyone just so he could forget about the pain. He didn't care about the love he had for everyone in the prison anymore because he wanted to forget and it was bullshit!

After everything they've gone through together. After everything they did to keep each other alive. Daryl wanted to throw it all in the trash so he could forget about what the Governor done to the prison. And Wilmur was sick of it.

"You used to care about others and now you're totally focused on yourself because-because you want to forget about everything that's happened to us! You want to throw it all in the trash so you can forget about your pain!" Wilmur screamed.

"That is not true!" Daryl yelled.

"Uh, yeah, it is!" Wilmur screamed. "You just want to treat me and Beth like shit because you think you can use us as bait to get rid of your pain! Well, let me tell you something, Daryl! Beth and I are not bait! We're here now and we won't be treated like shit because of your selfish greed!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?! Sit around and cry all day?!" Daryl yelled.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything!" Beth yelled before Wilmur could even speak. "Like nothing we went through matters! Like none of the people you lost mean anything to you! Wilmur's right! You just wanna throw them away so you can't feel your pain! It's bullshit!"

Daryl scoffed. "Is that what y'all think?"

"That's what we know." Beth corrected.

"Y'all don't know nothing." Daryl yelled.

"I know you look at us and just see another dead person." Beth yelled. "I'm not Michonne! I'm not Carol! I'm not Maggie!"

"Yeah, she's right!" Wilmur yelled. "You think we're dead so you can use us as bait! You think I'm Carl and Rick but I'm not! Hell, you think I'm the Governor but I'm nothing like him like you are, bitch!"

Daryl took menacing steps toward Wilmur. "I'm nothing like the Governor!"

"You're using us as bait, Daryl!" Wilmur screamed. "Just like my father used me as bait so he could forget about my mom and sister's death!"

"You fucking use me as bait so you can find your boyfriend!" Daryl snapped. "But let me tell you somethin'! You're boyfriend's dead!"

"Shut up!" Wilmur yelled. "You just assume that because you don't want to face the pain again!"

"Did you see what your stupid father did to Beth's dad?! Do you and Beth have any idea what he did to the prison?!"

"We saw it all, Daryl!" Beth yelled. "I saw the people dying but I also saw some escape with my own eyes! Molly and Luke escaped! We escaped! If we did then others did, too! We survived and you don't get it 'cause we're not like you or them! But we made it and you don't get to treat us like crap just because you're afraid!"

Daryl leaned in Beth's face as growls threaten to ripple out of his chest and escape past his gritted teeth. "I ain't afraid nothin'!"

Beth glared at him as she saw straight through his lie. "I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me."

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows as he didn't recall any little girl being in their group. However, he did recall Carl telling him about his best friend who died on Hershel's farm. He could remember the look on Carl's face as he told him about her like it was yesterday.

He looked up at Beth who was leaning in Daryl's face with her teeth gritting together. "And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh?" Daryl said with growls rippling out of his throats. "You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear! Your whole family's gone, all you can do is just go out looking for a hooch like some dumb college bitch!"

"Screw you. You don't get me and Wilmur at all." Beth snapped.

"No, y'all don't get it!" Daryl yelled, his face boiling red from the anger. "Everyone we know is dead!"

"You don't know that!" Beth yelled.

"You might as well be, 'cause y'all ain't never gonna see 'em again!" Daryl yelled in their faces with his fists clenching from the rage. "Rick. Maggie."

Daryl leaned in Wilmur's face, gritting his teeth in rage and letting the growls escape past them. "You ain't never gonna see Carl again!"

"Just shut up!" Wilmur screamed, grabbing Daryl's arm but he yanked away.

"No!" He yelled, turning away from their angry faces with tears filling his vengeful eyes as he thought of everyone they lost all because of him. Because he let the Governor destroy everything and everyone they had. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me!"

"Daryl." Wilmur said more calmly, grabbing his arm but he pulled away.

He now knew why Daryl was so angry. It wasn't just because the Governor destroyed the prison and killed Hershel. It was because him and Michonne gave up on looking for the Governor and that caused him to destroy the prison. He was blaming himself but it wasn't his fault because the Governor had an entire army. They would've lost for sure.

Daryl assumed everyone was dead because he searched for the Governor more such a long time and didn't find a single clue. If he couldn't find any traces of the Governor then how could they find any traces left by there loved ones? It was because Daryl gave up.

"Daryl." Wilmur and Beth said at the same time, grabbing his arm but he pulled away again.

"No-" Daryl's cracked voice cut him off as he thought of Hershel. "And your dad. Maybe-maybe I could've done somethin'."

Beth and Wilmur cut Daryl off by pulling him in a tight embrace. That's when tears slowly started to drip down Daryl and Wilmur's cheeks. The embrace wasn't only to comfort Daryl but to comfort himself, too. After everything they worked so hard to protect and everyone they loved so much, they lost it all.

It was all because of the Governor. He destroyed everything and suffocated them so much as if he sucked up the oxygen. None of it was Daryl's fault. Everything was blamed on the Governor.

"Listen up!" Said a strict man. "We found what was left of Martinez in a pit this morning."

Everyone in the crowd gasped as they looked at each other. Their leader was now dead and they now needed another one. But no one would be able to replace a leader as good as Martinez.

"Looks like he was hitting some golf balls, he got drunk, he fell in." The strict man continued as everyone in the crowd gasped.

"So now what?" Asked the same younger woman.

Another man who was the younger brother of the strict man stepped up. "I'm taking leadership of the camp."

The crowd immediately started complaining but the younger brother of the strict man held his hand up to stop the crowd from getting out of control.

"Hold on now. Hold on now!" The younger brother of the strict man said.

An old man stepped up. "We should vote on who leads right?"

The crowd agreed and sided up on him. They wanted to choose who they thought would make a good leader like the new man that just came in more than a few days ago.

"You can't just take over." The younger sister of the mother said.

"Shut your mouth, you little bitch!" The strict man told the younger sister of the mother.

She growled and walked toward him. "What?!"

The crowd started rioting up against the strict man and the younger brother of the strict man while the army men stood up against them with their machine guns held in their hands.

"Hey! Calm down!" The younger brother of the strict man yelled. "Calm down, all of you!"

The crowd obeyed and looked upon their new leader with their loved ones held in their arms. They were frightened over what happened to Martinez. What if it happened again?

"We need each other now more than ever." The younger brother of the strict man said loudly. "The only way we get through this, through any of this, is together. Now this is temporary. We'll find some kind of way to do a vote in the next couple of days. For now, it's business as usual. Okay?"

The crowd seemed to be less calm now, knowing and hoping their will be a vote and change of leader. Hopefully, it'll be someone exactly like Martinez. Nothing could ever replace him, but they needed someone like him.

"You heard the man!" Yelled the strict man. "Move!"

The older man sighed as he watched the crowd move back to their work stations. He needed to be the leader because he knew how to lead them.

Besides, he had to find his son.

Wilmur sat beside Beth in front of Daryl as they sat on the porch with the moon and stars out in the night, crispy sky. The night air sent a shiver down their spine and arms as they stared up at the stars.

Beth and Wilmur were happy drunk and could see the world in different colors and different light. Wilmur could see a beautiful, rushing river up ahead with sparkling river rocks which wasn't really there. He could see Carl laughing and playing with his baby sister in the river.

He knew he wasn't actually there, but it made him feel better. Instead of thinking about how he and Carl were separated, he thought about their love for each other and how it made him smile. It was because the liquor made him feel better and gave him new light to the world.

Although he loved the liquor, he couldn't get drunk again because he needed to put Carl first. What he did was a one time thing and he only needed to do it to keep himself going in the destroyed world filled with dead people and bad people walking around.

"I get why my dad stopped drinking." He heard Beth say.

"You feel sick?" Daryl asked, his voice much more calmer than before like his and Beth's.

Beth shook her head, her arms crossed. "Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad."

Daryl groaned. "Y'all are lucky you're a happy drunk."

"Yeah, we're lucky." Beth replied. "Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

"Yeah, I'm a dick when I'm drunk." Daryl replied, weakly smiling.

Wilmur sighed and looked up at the bright stars with his arms crossed as he listened to the jar bugs chat in the green trees. He loved hearing that noise because it always relaxed him even though it didn't at first because it reminded him the prison was destroyed. But now that he was happy drunk, he liked it because it relaxed him and showed that part of the old world was still there.

He listened to the owls humming in the trees and the wolves howling in the distance. Everything was so peaceful and quiet and colorful due to being drunk. He wondered what Carl was doing out in the chilling woods or in the warm houses.

"Do you think we'll ever find Carl?" Wilmur asked Daryl. "And be honest. I want to know what you think."

Daryl hesitated before shrugging. "If you believe then I believe. Everything you believe, it happens."

Beth smiled. "I think we're goin' to find everybody. No matter how hard it gets."

"Yeah, but when we do find whoever, we gotta keep what we did a secret." Wilmur joked, chuckling slightly.

Daryl and Beth chuckled along but silence immediately fell between them. The only thing they could hear was the owls humming, the wolves howling, and the jar bugs singing. Wilmur could also hear the rushing river, but it wasn't really there.

"Merle had this dealer." Daryl broke the silence. "This janky little white guy. A tweaker. One day we were over at his house watching TV. Wasn't even noon yet and we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watching this show and Merle was talking all this dumb stuff about it. And he wouldn't let up. Merle never could. Turns out it was the tweaker's kids' favorite show."

Wilmur sighed as he knew what was going to happen next. He remembered how everybody in school bullied him. It only resulted in the bullies getting beat up which caused him to get suspended from school countless times.

"And he never sees his kids, so he felt guilty about it or somethin'." Daryl continued. "So he punches Merle in the face. So I started hitting the tweaker, like, hard. As hard as I can. Then he pulls a gun, sticks it right here." Daryl pointed to his temple.

Wilmur listened to Daryl's story and caught interest in it when he mentioned the tweaker pulled a gun on Daryl like almost everyone else did when the outbreak started.

"He says, 'I'm gonna kill you, bitch.'" Daryl continued. "So Merle pulls his gun on him. Everyone's yelling. I'm yelling. I thought I was dead. Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog."

"How'd you get out of it?" Beth asked.

"...The tweaker punched me in the gut. I puked. They both started laughing and forgot all about it."

Wilmur remembered how students in school bullied him when Kevin posted pictures of him sleeping with him around the school. He always got in violent fights and he was always blamed for it.

"You wanna know what I was before all this?" Daryl questioned them. "I was just drifting around with Merle...doin' whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day. I was nobody...nothin'. Some redneck asshole and an even bigger asshole for a brother."

"You miss him, don't you?" Beth asked. "I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my dad. I thought-I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby and he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved."

Wilmur had unbelievable thoughts like she did, too. He thought one day, when he and Carl were older, they'd get married and somehow have children. They would have their anniversary's and their birthdays, and then they'd die together. But then the Governor marched right up to their gates and destroyed every last one of them.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Beth chuckle and sob at the same time. She couldn't believe she let herself think like that and she felt like a weakling for doing so.

"That's how unbelievably stupid I am." Beth's voice cracked, picking up her glass cup and drinking more moonshine.

"That's how it's suppose to be." Daryl said.

Beth looked up at the beautiful stars and moon in the dark sky which was lit up by the moonlight. "I wish I could just...change."

"You did." Wilmur replied. "Just like I did."

"Not enough." Beth replied. "Not like y'all. It's like you were both made for how things are now."

Daryl shrugged. "I'm just used to it, things being ugly. Growing up in a place like this."

"Well, you got away from it." Beth responded.

"I didn't." Daryl retorted.  
"You did." Beth immediately replied.

"Maybe you gotta keep on reminding me sometimes." Daryl replied.

Beth shook her head. "No. You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?"

Daryl didn't respond and instead, stared at the stars in the beautiful sky. It was so peaceful. No walkers could be heard heading their way.

"I'll be gone someday." Beth continued.

"Stop." Daryl and Wilmur said at the same time.

"I will." Beth replied. "You are both gonna be the last men standing. You both are. You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon and Wilmur Blake."

Daryl chuckled. "You both ain't happy drunk at all."

"Yeah, we're happy. We're just not blind." Beth replied. "You gotta stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away."

Daryl looked back in the sky. "What if you can't?"

"You have to." Beth replied. "Or it kills you."

It was true. Wilmur remembered how he was Justin and it killed his heart. He refused to let any feelings slip in his heart just to keep the pain away. But then he met Carl and brought him back.

"We should go inside." Daryl said, looking at the bright moon in the sky.

Beth giggled. "We should burn it down."

Daryl pulled himself off the porch, heading toward the door before turning around to see the disappointing looks on their faces. He smirked to himself. "We're gonna need more booze."

Beth and Wilmur laughed before following Daryl back in the building, grabbing the booze and throwing it all over the wooden floor and walls. They laughed as they threw the booze all around the building and spreaded it everywhere. They threw it against the boarded windows and the wooden door and over the tables and sofas.

They quickly rushed out of the building and stood in front of it. Daryl pulled pounds of dollar bills out of his bag along with a lighter, handing the lighter over to Beth and part of the money to Wilmur.

"Y'all wanna?" He asked.

Wilmur nodded and Beth chuckled, taking the lighter while Wilmur took the dollar bills. She lit the money on fire and they both threw it toward the building, setting it on fire. The bright fire spreaded across the porch and made it's way in the building as they slowly backed away from it.

Daryl threw a jar bottle in the fire and stared at it as the fire grew larger and larger along with Beth and Wilmur. They watched as the building slowly stared to burn down in the bright, orange fire.

Beth suddenly stuck her middle finger up at the burning building, motioning for Wilmur and Daryl to do the same. They both chuckled and did as told, sticking their middle fingers up at the building as it burned to the ground.

Slowly, they started to walk in the deep dark woods, beginning their journey to search for Carl all over again. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Alone Rocks

"God, no! Please!" Carl jerked off the leafy ground, screaming in terror as he woke up from another one of his horrifying nightmares.

Michonne and Rick quickly dashed to the young teen and wrapped their strong arms around him tightly as they pulled him in a warm embrace while Carl cried into their shoulders, ruining their shirts. His tears soaked against their necks as his fingers tightly clinged to Michonne's shirt in fear. They rubbed soothing circles on his back as he squirmed in their arms and cried.

Carl trembled as Michonne's thumb rubbed small circles on his shoulders before his fingers clinging to her and his father's shirts loosened and bawled into them. More tears slowly dripped down his cheeks as his shrieking and sobbing slowly began to stop. He buried his face in his father's strong chest and sobbed into it while as he rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shh. It's okay." Michonne said softly in his ear as she rubbed tiny circles on his left shoulder.

Carl sobbed softly before pulling away to look Michonne and his father in the eyes with his teary blue ones. He sniffled and wiped his nose as he rested his head against Michonne's shoulder while the tears in his eyes drained away. They slowly rubbed their palms up and down his back as he sobbed against Michonne's shoulder.

"It was all just a bad dream." Michonne reminded him as she rubbed his back.

Rick cuddled closer to his son and wrapped his arms around his slender form before stroking his shoulder with his rough fingers. Carl sobbed softly as he cuddled closer to his father. Rick wiped away a single tear trailing down Carl's cheek before wrapping his arm around his shoulder as his other palm rubbed his back while Michonne rubbed Carl's shoulders.

"We have to find a new place to hold up before the walkers come." Rick whispered to Michonne who was still embracing Carl and running her fingers through his soft hair.

"He's still upset though." Michonne whispered back.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I know. But we have to leave before a herd comes."

Michonne sighed, wrapping her arm around Carl's waist and helping him pull himself up as he sobbed into her shoulder with his fresh tears ruining her shirt. She gently pushed his head away but kept her arm wrapped around his shoulder as she helped him walk with Rick taking the lead.

Walkers suddenly pop out from behind one of the many trees in the forest, forcing them to run. Carl struggled to keep up with Michonne on his trembling and shaking legs, but Michonne kept shoving him ahead. Rick shoved his axe into the walkers soft skulls while Michonne chopped their heads up with her sword as she pushed Carl ahead of them.

Hot tears continued to pour down Carl's cheeks as he was pushed ahead of Michonne and Rick. He could still see his nightmare as fresh as day. The walkers were busting in the prison as canons fired into the brick buildings, killing hundreds of innocent people. He could see the Governor smirking mischievously in the thick smoke with his crimson, colored machete held in his cold, pale hands.

He could no longer feel Wilmur's presence beside him but instead, saw him rushing through to the Governor though the black smoke to be on his side instead of being with him. Tears poured down his cheeks as he desperately pushed through the walkers to get to him. Someone was pulling him back, but he desperately tried to fight against their strong grip.

Carl smacked the person off him and continued to quickly rush to Wilmur, brutally smashing the walkers against the hard rocks if they got in his way. He could hardly breathe due to the thick, black smoke filling his lungs, but he forced himself to keep going.

The Governor and Wilmur suddenly turned out to be walkers as soon as he touched Wilmur and began to beg for him to come back. Both walkers jumped on top of him and knocked him to the what was now the leafy and branchy ground. He shrieked as the walkers teeth chomped right in front of his face as they're hands smashed against his wrists.

Rick suddenly came in his vision and smashed the walkers off him, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him back on his feet to run from the other walkers chasing them down. In Carl's vision, he could see the walkers as the Governor's soldiers chasing them down. Panic immediately shot through his veins as he struggled to breathe.

The Governor suddenly appeared right in front of him, forcing him to stop running as he stared fearfully at the man of his nightmares who had Wilmur standing beside him. They both had a smirk of evil on their lips as they gripped their crimson red knives and took a menacing step toward him.

An arm suddenly wrapped around him as he shrieked upon seeing the nightmare of his dreams and the man who he loved were threating him. The strong arm carried him throughout the dark woods while they ran from the walker herd Carl could not see.

Carl screamed and cried as the arm pushed him out of the thick smoke and into the Governor's arms who had a knife held to his neck. Wilmur was bending down in front of him and smirking as his knife got nearer his stomach.

Suddenly, Wilmur turned into Rick who screaming in his face as Michonne held him in his arms. He was quick to realize that all the black smoke wasn't real and his sobs was what was making it hard for him to breathe. The Governor's army who were chasing him down was just the walker herd stumbling through the woods while Rick and Michonne is who the thought was Wilmur and the Governor.

"Carl!" He heard his father's voice echo in his ears as tears streamed down his cheeks.

The young teen sobbed and fell into Michonne's arms before crying into her shoulders all over again as his fingers tightly clinged to her shirt as if he was going to die if he let go.

"Shh. Shh. Shh. It's okay." Michonne soothed, wrapping her arms around the teen and rubbing small circles on his back.

Rick had wrapped his arms around the back side of him and gently pulled him off the samurai before pulling him in his arms to help him walk as he rubbed his back. The tears in Carl's eyes slowly start to drain away as his father wrapped his arm around his waist to help him walk.

"We have to keep goin'." Rick whispered to his son who was crying softly. "We have to find another shelter."

Carl sniffled. "I'm s-sorry. I'm just being stupi-" Rick cut him off.

"Don't." Rick said softly. "It isn't your fault. You just had another nightmare. That's all."

Carl wiped his nose and sniffled as he held onto his father's waist to keep himself from collapsing to the branches on the leafs. "I'm being weak though."

"No, you're not." Michonne denied. "You lost a lot of people. We understand."

The problem wasn't the people he lost because of the Governor. The problem was the Governor frightened and manipulated him for so long that it was frightening to be in love with his son even though he was the complete opposite of what the Governor was. Wilmur would always have a little bit of the Governor inside him because he was his son and it scared Carl although he may not know it.

In his night terrors, Wilmur either left him behind or died because of the Governor. They caused all of his horrifying and terrifying nightmares which caused him to scream and attract walkers in the night.

Rick and Michonne would try to comfort him and every single way they can, but they couldn't because only Wilmur could. Wilmur was the only one who could soothe him and remind him that he loved him and didn't hate him like the Governor did. All Rick and Michonne could do was hold Carl until he was able to wake up from the nightmare himself.

Carl sobbed and walked alongside his father in the woods with Michonne taking the lead as she killed every walker that walked in their path. His breathing slowed down as he watched the blood splatter from the walkers throats as she cuts their heads off and left them. He struggled to step over the walkers heads, but his father managed to keep him walking on his trembling legs.

He closed his eyes as he walked and let a few tears slip out of his red and puffy eyes before they strolled down his dirty cheeks. He could feel his father rubbing his back slowly when he noticed the few tears sliding down his cheeks. A sob accidently escaped his chapped lips, causing a walker to sneak up behind them.

Rick brutally shoved the walker's stomach against a sharp tree branch, causing crimson blood to splatter all over his dirty cloths and color his boots red. He turned back to his son and continued to help him walk behind Michonne.

"Shh." Rick shushed upon Carl's sob and Michonne's sword slashing against the walkers throats. "Do you hear that?"

Carl listened closely to hear a rushing river running across the sparkling rocks in the distance. It sounded so peaceful, but to Carl, it reminded him of how the Governor destroyed the prison and forced them to survive on the road instead. It was no longer about trying to find shelter but survival of the instinct instead.

Michonne gave Rick a tiny smile before heading toward the direction of the rushing river. It was shoving itself against the rocks as the tiny rock particles swam the direction of the river was pushing it. The wet rocks sparkled against the moonlight shining through the green leafs in the tall trees shining against the bright stars in the sky.

"This'll have to do for the night." Rick said, squatting down to the river and splashing the cool water against the blood on his face.

Carl squatted next to his father and put his shaking hands in the cold water before bringing it up to his mouth and letting it sink in. The cool water washed his teeth like a mouthwash as cooled down his dyhrated tongue. The water made his dry taste buds wet and cool again like it was at the prison every time his workday was done and he got a drink of cold water.

Michonne washed her sword off while Rick and Carl washed their dirt and filth off their dirty faces. Carl washed the tears out of his eyes with the cold water as it rested against his cheeks. Michonne built a fire out of the sparkling rocks and the thick logs before Rick built sticks over it to fry the very little food they had.

"Here." Rick said, handing a very small squirrel over to Carl. "May not be much, but it'll make you feel better."

Carl hesitated before taking the small, cooked squirrel before gently tearing each piece off with his shaking fingers and stuffing it in his mouth. He ate silently as he stared into the bright, orange fire reflecting in the river and shining against the sparkling rocks. The tears in his puffy eyes had drained away. His heart wasn't beating so rapidly anymore like it was when he thought he was still in his nightmare.

Rick and Michonne were just standing a few feet away from Carl, whispering to one another as they stared at the young teen with concern in their eyes. They were both worried about the condition Carl was in. His night terrors had only grown worse since he had his first one a bit more than a few weeks ago. They had tried to comfort him, but their source of reassurance didn't help him at all.

"I'm so worried about him." Rick whispered to Michonne. "He's only gotten worse these past weeks. What if he doesn't get better?"

"He will." Michonne said confidently, refusing to even consider the possibility of Carl not getting better with his night terrors. "Once we meet up with Wilmur, he'll get better."

Rick shrugged, worry still visible in his light blue eyes. "Yeah, but still. What would we do? Carl would only be attracting more walkers every night." He said, hoping his son couldn't hear them over the loud, rushing river.

"It's why there's Terminus." Michonne replied. "We'll be safer there. It'll be much easier."

Rick sighed before darting his eyes back to his son who was staring into the fire with stained tears on his cheeks as he ate the tiny, cooked squirrel. His fingers were still shaking from the terrifying night terror he had and his arm shook as he remembered the dark dream.

Carl looked up to see his father staring straight at him with worry and concern in his eyes. His eyes darted to Michonne who had concern in them as she stared at him. He sighed and stuffed the last piece of his squirrel in his mouth before settling closer to the rushing river and laid his head against a hard rock.

He could hear the rustled footsteps of Rick and Michonne gathering near the bright fire as well as feeling their worried eyes stare at him. Carl simply ignored the stares and turned to lay on his side where his face was facing the rushing river. Slowly, he pulled the sparkling rock Wilmur had given him out of his pocket and stared at it as it sparkled and reflected the bright moon in the moonlight.

Carl closed his eyes as he pictured Wilmur's smiling face standing in the green fields of the beautiful prison. Suddenly, he pictured the Governor riding up to the gates with fully loaded tanks and heavy guns which shot down the fences, the prison, and everyone in it. All he could picture was Wilmur disappearing into the black smoke with the Governor.

Carl gasped as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, making him flinch and jump away from the touch as a reflex. He relaxed when he saw that it was just his father's hand and rested back up against the rock again.

"Go to sleep." Rick said.

"I can't." Carl replied. "I don't wanna attract another herd."

"If we're goin' to get to Terminus, you need all the sleep you can get." Rick said, his voice getting a slightly bit stricter.

Carl shrugged. "I'll just wake up from another nightmare and then another herd will come. We won't get to sleep any then."

"They won't hear us over the river." Rick replied, hoping it was actually true. "Rest. Sleep. You're gonna need it."

Carl sighed in defeat, pulling his hat off his head and laying it against the hard rock to use as a pillow. He rested his head against the soft hat before closing his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep before Rick made his way back over to Michonne who was staring blankly in the fire.

"That goes for you, too." Rick told Michonne. "Go to sleep."

Michonne sighed before kicking the burning fire out with her boots and settling down near Carl, laying her sword beside her as she gently grasped it while falling into her own little world. Her worried, brown eyes darted to Carl one last time before she let herself drift off.

The man knocked on the youngest Doglen's brother's RV door. He placed his hands over his hips as he waited for the youngest Doglen brother to open the RV door. He knew what he was about to do was wrong, but the youngest Doglen brother wasn't fit to lead the camp. There was only one person he knew who was actually fit to lead the camp low on supplies.

The youngest Doglen brother opened the door, staring at him with concern as he stood in the doorway.

"We need to talk." The man said.

"About Mitch." The youngest Doglen brother as he recalled his older brother Mitch, stepping out of the doorway. "Come in." The man walked through the RV door, shutting it quietly behind him as he faked a smile across his lips to block the evil frown from giving away as he stood behind the younger brother of Mitch.

"I knew this was coming." The younger brother of Mitch said, turning around while the man snuck up behind him with a knife held in his hand. "I've been getting him out of trouble my-"

The man suddenly shoved his hand against the younger brother of Mitch's mouth, smashing the knife against the back of him and through his stomach as blood soaked through his shirt. The younger brother of Mitch muffled his cries against his hand as he tried to fight back, but failed. The man shoved the knife into his stomach more and yanked it up as the man cried into his hand before he yanked the knife out of his stomach.

The man pushed him to the floor and climbed on top of him, wrapping his hands tightly around the younger brother of Mitch's throat. He stared up at the man with fear and shock and pain in as the man cut off his oxygen.

"Shh." The man shushed as the younger brother of Mitch tried to fight back.

Finally, the younger brother of Mitch died as his blood stained against the man's rough hands. He dragged his fingers away from the younger brother of Mitch's throat but kept one hand against the wound on his stomach.

"I didn't want to do this." The man admitted. "But I have to find my son, and you were just gonna get in my way."

Wilmur fluttered his eyes opened as the bright sunlight greeted his droopy eyes. He rubbed the sleepiness out of them before pushing himself up on his elbows as they rested against the leafy ground. His eyes darted to Beth who was sleeping against a tree trunk peacefully and then to Daryl who had built a fire.

Daryl's eyes gazed to his. "Mornin'."

Wilmur sighed while placing one of his hands against the back of his hair to remove leafs as his exhaustion screamed for him to sleep again. "Morning."

Daryl grumbled and looked back down at the burning fire as the smoke shined against the sunlight bristling against the green leafs on the trees. Woodpeckers were nibbling against the bark on the trees and birds were picking up worms from the ground whiles squirrels searched for their acorns.

Wilmur crawled toward the fire and sat on one of the logs before tying a squirrel he had hunted against the thick stick hanging above the fire and letting it cook. He turned his head to see one of Daryl's bag filled with different animals Daryl had hunted.

"Did you go hunting without me and Beth this morning?" Wilmur questioned and Daryl nodded. "Why? Beth needs to practice using the crossbow and how to track as much as she can."

The archer shrugged and fried the hunted animals against the fire as he drank water out of his water bottle he refilled by a river they found a week or so ago.

After Wilmur and Beth got drunk a bit more than a few weeks ago, Wilmur and Daryl started to teach her how to use a crossbow and how to track like they promised. She practiced looking for tracks while they roamed the woods for Carl. In the afternoon, she'd do target practice against a tree until they decided she was ready to use it on a little bit of walkers.

Beth had gotten very good like Wilmur did when Daryl taught him how to track and use a crossbow even though he didn't use it much. Everyday, Beth would practice tracking by looking for tracks left by Carl but unluckily, they couldn't find any. It was a frustration to all of them, but they forced Beth to keep practicing so they could forget all about it.

Ever since he and Beth got drunk, they've felt a lot better because the liquor pushed the pain away and helped them keep going no matter how hard things got along the road. They rested a lot more and focused on finding supplies instead of arguing to find Carl in every way they can. Whether they looked for him as hard as they could or not, they were going to find him and nothing and no one could stand in their way.

Now he understood why Bob turned to liquor for help when it got far too quiet. They've lost everything and everyone. Instead of being in shelter with everyone he loved, he was out in the woods with the dangerous people and hungry walkers. The pain was far too great and overwhelmed their broken hearts which caused him to turn for liquor for help.

It pushed his and Beth's emotional pain away and placed in the courage and confidence to survive and keep going no matter how hard things have gotten. Despite Carl being separated from him and all of their loved ones dead, the liquor helped them just like it helped Bob through the silence of his dead, loved ones.

Even though the liquor helped Bob when it got quiet, he still almost kept walking the day they found him walking along the lonely road by himself with a machete held in his hand. He didn't want to lose another group like he lost his two other ones, but he realized he couldn't run away from the pain despite the liquor.

Wilmur sat at the back of Daryl's motorcycle with his arms wrapped around his adoptive father's waist as he clinged to him so he wouldn't fall off. Glenn was just beside them driving in a blue truck by himself as they both drove on the road filled with dead, orange leafs to their destination. Daryl's engine in his motorcycle roared in all of their ears, most likely attracting walkers from the woods on both sides of the road.

They drove past a huge, white truck used for workers back in the old day but was now nothing but a big vehicle lying on the side of the road for walkers to overrun. Wilmur scanned his eyes through it to see if there was any supplies while they drove past it.

The young teen sighed and looked above Daryl's shoulders to see a lonely man walking along the leafy road with a machete held over his shoulder. The man stopped walking as soon as he heard their vehicle engines before hesitating to turn around. The man had dark skin and dark hair with his eyes being colored brown. His cloths were covered with dirt, blood, and sweat and grey, fingerless gloves were planted on his hands.

He, Daryl, and Glenn stepped out of their vehicles with their hands draped over the knife or gun held in the holsters of their belts as they studied the man who had a spite in his brown eyes as he stared at the three of them.

"You got point?" Glenn asked Daryl.

"Yeah, I got it." Daryl grumbled in response as he stared at the mysterious man.

Daryl took off his red poncho wrapped around the vest with angel wings at the back he always wore before draping it on his shoulder and pulling out his crossbow wrapped around his back before slowly walking toward the strange man with Wilmur and Glenn following from behind them as they pulled out their pistols.

"Hi." The strange man greeted. "Hello."

Daryl squinted his eyes at the man as they bristled in the sunlight. "Just you out here?"

The man's brown eyes saddened at the thought of himself being alone with the dead before hesitating to answer. "Yeah."

Wilmur narrowed his eyes as he noticed the hesitation in his voice and the sadness in his brown eyes, his hands clenching his gun tighter as he stared at the African-American man. He looked at his backpack wrapped around his shoulders before darting his eyes back to the sadness in the man's eyes.

Daryl alongside with him and Glenn took a couple more steps toward the African-American man as their fists tightened against their weapons. They, especially Daryl, wasn't sure if they could trust the man or not. Despite the lack of weapons and food he had on him, he looked harmless but they Governor did as well, and they were completely wrong.

Wilmur looked at Daryl who was taking a few more steps toward the strange man whose been alone for a while. "How long's it been like that for?" He questioned about the loneliness he man had.

The man shrugged. "I don't know. I was with one group and another one after that."

"They dead? All of them?" Wilmur questioned with disbelief.

Sadness grew in the man's eyes while he shook his head as remembered every member in both of his groups that died so horribly and horrifyingly.

"What's your name?" Glenn asked.

"Bob Stookey." The man revealed what his name was."You people have a camp?"

Wilmur stared at Daryl with distrust in his eyes as their grip on their weapons tightened. They weren't sure if they could trust a man who lost two entire groups. How could he be the only would left? What if it was his fault both of his groups died? What if he even killed them?

Daryl turned his head back to Bob. "How many walkers have you killed?" He asked one of the most three important questions that could tell them if a stranger was to be trusted or not.

"Haven't kept count." Bob shrugged. "A couple dozen."

Daryl took a menacing step toward Bob before asking the next, tricky question that always caught people off guard. "How many people?"

Bob hesitated. "Only one."

"Why?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at Bob's hesitation to answer.

Bob bowed his head to look at the leafs covering the concrete on the road as he remembered the woman he killed out of mercy but not out of cold blood. "She asked me to."

Wilmur softened his eyes, his tight grip wrapped around his pistol loosening as a bit of trust for Bob snuck in his heart. He still wasn't so sure about Bob but he hadn't killed anybody out of cold blood and only killed a couple dozen of walkers. He wasn't a danger to the group or anyone who lived in the prison.

"Wanna come with us?" Daryl offered.

Bob looked beside himself and toward the woods a herd walkers had just chased him out of the other night before darting his eyes to the white truck he slept on to hide from the walkers which surrounded him all night. He lost two entire groups and was bound to lose another one, but he couldn't be a survival machine anymore.

"Yes." Bob replied.

Wilmur narrowed his eyes again when Bob didn't ask them any questions about their camp like people usually did. They could've been a threat or really be pulling Bob into a death trap and he just trusted them. How could he after the world had gone so bad and disgusting and horrifying?

"Got any questions for us?" Daryl grumbled in disbelief at Bob's trust in them.

Bob shook his head. "No. It doesn't matter who you are."

"Really?" Glenn challenged.

Bob nodded, sheathing his machete back in his belt. "Yeah. It doesn't matter."

Wilmur eyed at Daryl and Glenn before turning his head back to Bob and motioned for him to come. Bob smiled and followed them to Glenn's truck and Daryl's motorcycle.

Wilmur helped Glenn lower the tailgate before holding out his hand toward Bob. "I'll take any weapons you have, please?"

Bob furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Why? I know it would be a mistake to hurt any of you."

"It's out of trust." Wilmur replied. "We'll give them back to you later."

The African-America obeyed and pulled his machete out of his belt and handed it to Wilmur before handing in his empty 9MM pistol. Wilmur sheathed the machete inside his belt before placing Bob's empty pistol in the holster placed on his belt.

"Hey." Bob said, causing Wilmur to look back up at him. "What's your name?"

"Wilmur. Wilmur Blake." He answered.

Bob furrowed his eyebrows at the young teen. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen? Fifteen? I think I'm fifteen. Why does it matter?" Wilmur questioned rudely due to a stranger asking him questions he shouldn't have to know unless he was going to use it against him.

"Everything matters nowadays." Bob replied. "Especially age."

Wilmur sighed. "No, it doesn't."

Wilmur closed his eyes at the memory and let a single tear stroll down his dirty cheek. He and everyone on the council had misjudged Bob completely. Bob was directly choosing liquor over saving lot's of lives. He was choosing liquor because he thought it was hopeless to save everyone which it was. He knew something was bound to happen whether it was dying from the sickness in the prison or not.

It wasn't just the liquor he was wrong about but also about how aging in the world didn't matter anymore. It did matter because you don't have much time left in the world and you need to cherish all the time you have when your alive because something could happen to you. If you were aging, then you were getting closer and closer to your death.

"You okay?" Daryl's voice made him jump.

"Uh-yeah. Sorry." Wilmur apologized, lifting his head to see Daryl heading deeper in the woods. "Where you going?"

Daryl turned around, his crossbow held in his hands. "Wake up Beth. She needs to practice more."

Wilmur smiled and crawled toward Beth, placing his hand on her shoulder and gently shaking her awake. She yawned as she awoke and lifted her head off the tree trunk, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she lifted herself off the ground.

"What're we doing?" Beth asked. "It's early. I can tell."

"You need to practice with tracking and using the crossbow." Wilmur replied. "Besides, it'll wake you up."

Beth grinned and followed he and Daryl deeper in the green, peaceful forest. Daryl handed his crossbow over to Beth and she held it up, taking slow steps as she walked through the woods with a big bow in her hands. Wilmur kept his knife out of his belt just in case a walker happened to jump on Beth and was unable to fight it off.

Their blue eyes stared at the ground with each step they took just in case they happened to pass by a track left by Carl, someone else, or a walker. Wilmur looked up at a tree to see a bloody, hand trail was left on it. He narrowed his eyes before walking toward it and placing his hand against the stained blood.

"What's this?" Wilmur asked with his hand rubbing it, looking at Daryl and Beth.

Beth smiled and pressed her hand against it. She examined the stained blood against the bark on the tree before furrowing her eyebrows in confusion when she looked at the ground to see no foot print.

She darted her eyes to Daryl with confusion in them. "Is it a walker or human's blood?"

Daryl pointed ahead. "Why don't you find out."

Beth scoffed but kept the same smile on her face, holding the crossbow up and continued to search for any more tracks while Wilmur kicked the leafs below the tree with a bloody trail to make sure no one covered their tracks. He quickly catched back up to Daryl and Beth who were staring the ground down for any more tracks.

Wilmur's eyes darted to the ground where zigzag tracks were left by a walker. He smirked and tapped on Beth shoulder before pointing to the ground. She grinned and kicked some of the green and orange leafs out of the way before she examined the tracks.

"Guess what it is." Wilmur smirked, his hands placed over his hips with his eyebrows raised at Beth.

Beth squinted her eyes at the track as her fingers brushed against it. "Well, the pattern is all zig-zaggy. It's a walker." She smiled at her victory.

"Maybe it's a drunk." Daryl joked, remembering how Wilmur and Beth got happy drunk.

Beth smirked at the joke before holding the crossbow up again. "I'm getting good at this. Pretty soon I won't need you and Wilmur at all."

"Oh, that's a bet." Wilmur challenged, smirking as he followed Beth deeper in the woods with Daryl just behind them.

The man knocked against the oldest of the Doglen's brothers RV door, leaving a blood from when he killed the youngest Doglen brother just a few minutes ago so he could be the leader and find his son. But he couldn't be the leader if he didn't tell the oldest Doglen brother that he was fit to lead and there was nothing he could do about it.

The oldest Doglen brother opened the door with a blue cup held in his hand to realize the older man was pointing a pistol toward him. The man shifted the gun to the side to motion him to let him in with a glare plastered in his cold, dead eye.

Slowly, the oldest Doglen brother stepped out of the way with hesitation to let the evil man in. He shut the door behind him and shoved the youngest Doglen brother against a chair while he sat in the other with his gun to pointed at him with the youngest Doglen's brother's blood stained on his blue shirt.

"Where's Pete?" The oldest Doglen brother asked about his younger brother.

The man blinked and sighed softly. "He's dead."

The oldest Doglen brother stood up in anger and rage, ignoring the gun the man had been pointing at him. "You gonna kill me, too, now? Huh? For the old guy at the camp?"

The man ignored the oldest Doglen brother, pointing his pistol back at the chair he was once sitting in to motion for him to sit down again with a strong glare in his eye. The oldest Doglen brother obeyed and sat back down with a look of worry, fear, and sadness in his eyes over his younger brother's death.

Grief was visible in his brown eyes as he bawled his fists together in rage while he darted his eyes away from the older man who had killed his brother disturbingly. He could still remember how soft and innocent he was to everything in the entire world but the man Martinez had brought in had killed him and his brother.

Despite how much they argued and how different they were from each other, they still somehow got along and survived together through all the grief and sadness in the demolished world with dead people walking around.

The man lowered his pistol once he saw the sadness filling the oldest Doglen brother's eyes which were refusing to look at him. He pulled out a couple of cigarettes and a lighter while his eyes stayed on the upset youngest Doglen brother.

"Smoke?" The man said, holding out a cigarette toward him.

The youngest Doglen brother ignored the cigarette and lighter as he thought about his younger brother. "Why did you do my brother?"

"You were right about that camp. We should've taken their supplies." The man replied as he remembered how he went on a hunt with the Doglen brothers and found a camp filled with supplies but the youngest Doglen brother wanted to leave them, and now some other group already attacked them and took the unknown camp's supplies. "I don't care that you killed the old man."

After they went to check out the unknown camp the next day, everything was destroyed, all the supplies were taken, and all of the people were dead besides the old man. He remembered how the oldest Doglen brother put the old man out of his misery and the younger brother got mad. However, it wasn't suppose to matter if they killed him or not because they had to take their supplies but the youngest Doglen brother didn't.

"Men like your brother, always doin' the right thing, even at the cost of their own people." The man continued, pointing his pistol at the cigarette. "Go on. Have a cigarette."

"I quit." The youngest Doglen brother replied.

The man sighed. "Yeah, me, too. I remember the first smoke I ever had. Me and my brother huddled in the garage puffing on one of my dad's Lucky Strikes. He must have smelled the smoke 'cause he came barging in looking to beat up on us."

The man could remember his abusive father like it was yesterday. Yet, somehow, he managed to grow up and have a wonderful wife, a strong and brave son, and a sweet daughter. He shielded his children away from his abusive dad just like his brother shielded him from their dad.

"But my brother got between us." The man continued as he remembered how his brother stood up for him against their father. "Said he stole them. Wasn't true. It was me. But that was my brother...hero."

All hero's ever did was either get themselves hurt or killed. They always caused harm to themselves even before the outbreak. His brother caused harm to his own self due to trying to protect him against their abusive father. However, in the end, they both got beaten up.

"He got two black eyes and a broken rib for that. And I got beat anyway." The man continued, looking back at the cigarette. "Take one."

Tears filled the oldest Doglen's brother's eyes as he thought of his brother who he would never, ever see again. He shook his head at the death while the man handed him the cigarette and lighter, placing the smoke in his mouth as he lit it up.

"I'm running things now, and I will do everything it takes to protect this camp." The man said. "Now, if you join me, I promise you you'll never have to worry about whether you were doing the right thing or the wrong thing. Because we will do the only thing."

The youngest Doglen brother let the man light up his cigarette as they both began to smoke, memories of their loved ones flashing by their ruthless minds while the hated ones flooded their angry minds.

"You don't want to end up like my son." The man said. "The boy I told you my son fell in love with...he was the son of a man I hated. The son of a man who attacked us. Now, since my son fell in love with him, I beat him for it."

The youngest Doglen's brother eyes widened in horror and disbelief at how a big a monster the man really was. He wasn't a man who was traveling with two, weak women and an innocent child. He was a careless man who beat his son up for caring for a person he loved.

"I know what you're thinking." The man continued. "I beat him for it because boy he loved was the son of a man who killed more people in my old group than you can imagine. He was lucky he escaped or he would've died. Now, the rules of love and abuse don't apply anymore so it doesn't matter what I did to him. But...if you tell anybody I hit my son, I'll end your life in the worst way."

Carl followed his Michonne and his father deeper in the woods as they desperately tried to hunt for any food while Carl cried softly. He had just woken up from another terrifying, night terror. Luckily, his screams were muffled into Michonne's palm until he finally realized he was out of the nightmare.

Rick and Michonne's eyes kept looking at him with sympathy and concern and he had no idea why. Yeah, he was having night terrors again but they shouldn't be worrying about him. They had to worry about getting to Terminus as fast as they could so he couldn't scream and attract walkers in the night while Wilmur comforted him through the nightmares in Terminus.

"You okay?" Michonne asked him, causing him to flinch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

The young teen sighed. "I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."

"I do." Michonne corrected. "You're nightmares are coming back."

"When we reunite Wilmur, it'll get better. I promise." Carl responded. "We just need to worry about getting to Terminus."

Michonne sighed and walked ahead of him with her hand placed over the sword lying against her back. Carl grumbled and followed after Michonne with his hand placed over the gun in his holster wrapped around his leg. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hands and rubbed his eyes to drain the tears away.

A squeak which sounded like a squirrel ringed out of nowhere, causing him to flinch and raise his gun which was low on ammo. He tucked his pistol back in his holster and pulled out his rock knife Wilmur had taught him how to make before walking toward the squeaking noise which was hiding in a hole at the bottom of the tree.

As quietly as he could, he stuck his sharp, rock knife through the injured squirrel, killing it. He quickly put his knife away before picking up the squirrel and wrapping it around his shoulder like Daryl always did.

Carl's eyes saddened as he thought of Daryl. The archer who always walked around with his crossbow wrapped around his shoulders and who softened from the beginning of the outbreak. The strong man who the Governor had most likely killed at the prison when he destroyed it and killed everyone.

He wondered if he did escaped he was with Wilmur because Wilmur was Daryl's adoptive son. After he and Wilmur kissed goodbye, he ran off in the smoke to look for Daryl. Even though Daryl was a strong archer and a fast runner, he most likely got killed when the prison was destroyed. Wilmur could either be by himself or with Daryl. Either way, Wilmur survived the prison's attack and was going to find him, Rick, and Michonne.

"I got food." Carl mumbled while catching up to Rick and Michonne.

Rick smiled, placing a hand over his shoulder. "Good job, son. You're getting better and better at hunting."

Carl gave away a tiny smile on his lips as a look of pride snuck in his eyes. His father had been teaching him how to hunt since they left the house a group of bad people took over more than a few weeks ago. He had improved with his hunting skills in such a short amount of time, but he still needed to practice a lot more. However, due to his night terrors, it was hard because he kept attracting herds of walkers every time he woke up screaming.

Rick patted his shoulder. "Now all you need to do is start building traps and you'll be a hunting machine." He joked.

Carl weakly smiled before tying the tiny squirrel around his shoulder so it wouldn't fall off while following after Michonne and his father. He looked up in the trees and through the green leafs laying against the branches to see the bright sunlight shining against a couple of birds tweeting and singing.

Rick stopped walking before noticing Carl was staring up a tree with big birds chattering and singing as their beautiful feathers bristled in the morning sunlight. The father smiled and made his way back over to his son, staring up at tree as well. He didn't only need to teach his son how to hunt for food but also to climb trees so he could get away from danger such as a herd of walkers or a crowd of dangerous people.

But Rick wasn't only teaching his son survival skills so he could use them to survive, but also to help forget about the horrifying night terrors he's been having for more than a few weeks. Wilmur wasn't there to give Carl the comfort he desperately needed so he had to try and make Carl forget about the night terrors himself.

"Michonne." Rick called, stopping her from walking any further in the woods. "I think I'm gonna try to teach Carl how to climb a tree real quick."

The samurai nodded in agreement before making her way back over to the two men. She smiled to Carl in hopes of making him feel better so he could forget about the current night terror he just had.

"Shouldn't we be getting to Terminus as fast as we can?" Carl questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Rick shrugged. "Might as well learn the tips on how to climb a tree. It can save your life from a pack of walkers or if a bunch of people is chasing you down. It won't take long."

The young teen sighed in defeat before following his father to the tree filled with hundreds of thick branches he could pull himself up on and step on. He watched as his father examined the tree to make sure it wasn't too weak for Carl to climb on before turning back to him and pointing at the thick branches leading all the way up the tree.

"You see these branches?" Rick asked and Carl nodded. "You use them to step and pull yourself up on. Make sure they're not to weak so they won't break."

Carl nodded.

"If the tree has enough branches, you should get to the top in no time." Rick said, pulling out a sharp and strong knife. "But if it doesn't have enough branches, you use your knife to climb on instead."

Carl nodded again as he watched his father stick the sharp knife in the tree bark before pushing it in deeper enough that sap snuck out of it and dripped on the leafs the tree had dropped to the ground.

"Now, make sure your knife is sharp and strong enough. Otherwise it won't work." Rick told him and Carl nodded. "But you gotta make sure the knife is deep enough in the tree or it'll fall when you step on it."

The young teen bit his lip and nodded before pulling out his sharp knife and shoving it in the tree, making sure it was deep enough for him to step on. He shoved the knife deeper in the strong bark of the tree before pulling it out.

"Good job." Rick complimented with a smile, patting his son's back. "Now we're gonna climb. I'll be right behind you."

Carl hesitated before grabbing a thick branch and pulling himself up with his father's hand placed on his lower back to help push him up to the next branch. His hand reached up to a weak branch while his foot stepped on a thick branch with his father climbing just behind him. He gripped onto the next couple thick branches before pulling himself up with Rick lifting him up at the same time.

His eyes filled with nervousness darted down to Michonne who was at the bottom of the tree with her thumb sticking up to give them both a thumbs up. Her sharp sword was held in his her as she stayed cautious for any walkers to sneak up on her. He weakly smiled and reached up for the next branch.

"Don't step on that branch." Rick said. "It's took weak. Grab that other one right there."

Carl did as told before lifting himself up on the next thick branch, helping father up to the next thick branch we was standing on before looking up and grabbing the next thick branch and lifting himself up. He looked up to see the same birds still tweeting and sinking in the rotten air as they sunlight shined down on their glistening feathers.

His hand reached up to grab the next branch but there was nothing there. He looked up the tree to see the next branch was out of his reach. He looked back down at his father who was just below him with his hand placed over his lower back.

"Use your knife." Rick told him. "Stick it in the tree. I won't let you fall."

Carl sighed and pulled his sharp and strong knife out of his belt before jabbing it in deeply in the tree. He gripped onto the branch just below him and pushed himself up to the knife. His eyes darted to the branch which was now in his reach before looking back down at his knife he was standing on.

"Reach up for the next branch and pull your knife out." Rick said.

The young teen did what his father told and reached up for the next branch, pulling his knife out of the tree while doing so and lifting himself up. He patiently waited for his father to do the same thing before climbing up to the next branch, getting closer and closer to the birds.

Rick gripped his son's waist and lifted him up as he reached for the next branch that was almost out of his reach before pulling himself up the branch. Carl stepped on the next branch while grabbing the one above and pulling himself up, slightly straining his arms from reaching out too far.

Unbeknownst, Rick was climbing back down the tree and leaving his son to climb the tree by himself without knowing. He slowly climbed back down the tall tree, smiling as he watched his son continue to climb up the tree by himself. He jumped off when he neared the bottom and landed next to Michonne who had her eyebrows furrowed.

"Why did you leave him up there for?" Michonne asked, worry sneaking in her brown eyes as she stared up at the teen climbing the tree by himself.

"He's got it." Rick replied. "He still thinks I'm up there with him. If I let him know I was goin' back down then he would've climbed back down with me. He needs to do this on his own."

Michonne sighed and watched as Carl slowly climbed up the tree and closer to the birds more and more until the bright sunlight shining through the trees kept her from looking any longer. Carl squinted his eyes from the bright sun as he got closer to the top and the birds. He clenched his knife tightly as he drew closer to the tweeting birds.

Slowly, he aimed his sharp knife at one of the big birds and threw his knife straight through one of their stomachs, killing it and causing the other bird to shriek in fear as it flew off. He climbed up to the next, long thick branch where the dead bird's body laid. Quietly, he slowly pulled the knife out of the bird's body and tied it around his shoulder so it wouldn't fall.

When he looked below him, he realized his father wasn't there anymore. He looked at the bottom of the tree to see Rick and Michonne staring straight up at him, smiling. Carl gave away a weak smile before slowly climbing back down, using his knife only one time before reaching the bottom of the tree.

"Great job, Carl." Rick complimented, hoping it made him forget about the night terror he just had.

"Thanks." Carl mumbled in response. "We going to the tracks now?"

Rick frowned when he still saw the glint of sadness in his son's eyes before nodding, letting Michonne take the lead. Carl's eyes stayed darted to the ground the entire time and watched each steps he took on the tracks which would eventually lead to Terminus. There was another Terminus sign that said to follow the tracks no matter who until it led to their place.

Once they reach Terminus, he can reunite with Wilmur and all of his horrifying night terrors could finally all get better again just like it did in the prison when he was having night terrors. Wilmur always held him in the night and soothed him when he woke up screaming and crying. Then it was as if the night terrors never happened. They all slowly disappeared one by one until every single one of them was gone.

It was all because Wilmur made them go away when no one else could. No matter who held him or screamed in his face for him to wake up, he couldn't be comforted by anyone except Wilmur. He was the one who calmed him down when he woke up screaming and held him when he was terrified after waking up.

In just a couple or few more weeks, he would finally be in Wilmur's arms again, but he had to get to Terminus before any of them could reunite with each other.

The man narrowed his blue eye at the map as he drew circles around their area with a red marker, marking better placing they can stay at instead of staying in the middle of the woods where walkers could easily come in and overrun their place. They needed somewhere they could last forever and stay safe away from walkers and people.

His girlfriend stepped out bed where she, he, and the little girl slept. She looked down at the map marked with red circles with the bright lamp shining against it. Her brown eyes were filled with concern and worry at what he was doing. They didn't need to leave. They were safe as long people took watch over the camp during the day and night.

"Maybe we can find a better place." The man said, circling red circles on the map while looking back up at his girlfriend. "You know, if...we're willing to fight for it."

The girlfriend sat in the chair across him. "We don't need to find a better place. This is home." She whispered, careful not to wake her daughter up.

The man put on a weak smile as he leaned back in his chair, his pen tapping against the table as he stared at her. His eyes darted to the little girl who was sleeping in bed and hugging her stuffed animal tightly. His girlfriend looked back at her daughter to see her peaceful face before turning back to him and sighing with her cheek resting against her hand. She knew he was worried for the camp and what could happen to it. But he was mostly worried about the little girl who was now basically his daughter because he already lost a child but not to death.

"Is this about your son?" The girlfriend asked, causing the man to sigh. "Cause' if it is, you don't need to worry. My daughter won't end up like him. She would never choose someone else over someone in her family."

The man didn't answer. Instead, he bowed his head to look at his map, placing his red marker down. "She told me about your son Jeremy. How he fell in love with a homeless boy and then your husband kicked him out of the house."

His girlfriend's eyes fluttered sadly as she remembered her oldest child and only son. He was really loving and protective over his family and all his friends. He stood up for everyone and always did what was right more than anyone ever could. He was a good man and very mature for his age. But she hasn't seen him ever since her husband and his father kicked him out of the house because he fell in love with a boy.

"I tried to find him." The girlfriend mumbled. "But it was too hard because I had to keep my dad, sister, and daughter safe. None of us know if he's alive or not. That's another reason why I asked you to get the oxygen tanks for my dad so you could see if Jeremy was in that building because last time, someone was in that building."

The man sighed. "He could still be alive. I can send search parties out there and try to find him. But I can't make any promises."

His girlfriend shook her head as she sighed softly. "It doesn't matter. He's been gone for two years. It'll be hopeless to find him."

"That's why we need to find a better place." The man responded.

His girlfriend furrowed her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"People get lost and die easily." The man replied. "If we find a better place, it don't have to be like that anymore."

Wilmur, Beth, and Daryl stepped into a clear area surrounded by trees where a walker was eating fresh flesh. Wilmur quietly pulled his knife out of his belt as he stared at the growling walker while Beth held Daryl's crossbow toward it.

On it was possibly a loaded gun they needed. They've been low on ammo for weeks and desperately needed more just in case a herd happened to pass by that they couldn't run from. Any walker or human could suddenly come upon their path that they'll need a bullet for. They really needed to go on a small supply run before they could do anything else.

"It's got a gun." Beth mentioned, aiming the crossbow at it as she slowly walked toward it with Wilmur and Daryl behind her, knives held in their hands.

She glanced back at them for a second to make sure they were behind her in case anything happened. Nervously, she turned back around and slowly walked toward it with the crossbow aiming at the back of it's head. She suddenly slipped on a silver chain and poll laying on the ground, twisting and injuring her ankle.

Beth squeaked in pain as she collapsed on her knees, the crossbow still aiming at the walker and struggling to shoot an arrow as it made it's way over to her. She accidently shot a bow in it's mouth instead of it's head while Daryl and Wilmur quickly rushed over to her. Daryl took the crossbow from her hands while Wilmur rushed to the walker and sent a knife through it's soft skull.

Daryl unhooked the chain and poll wrapped around her ankle and gently rubbed her boot where the ankle was located. Wilmur picked up the gun from the walker and rushed over to her, grasping her foot lightly while Daryl examined it.

"Can you move it?" Daryl asked, gently rubbing her boot where the ankle was at.

Beth moaned in pain as she carefully moved it, twisting it to the side to check and make sure it was okay while Daryl and Wilmur gently rubbed it to make it feel better. Wilmur gently felt the wound was swollen just by touching the boot where her ankle was located. She winced as his fingers gently grasped and squeezed it.

"Yeah." Beth replied to Daryl's question. "But stop squeezing it, Wilmur. It hurts."

The young teen dragged his fingers away from the boot before rubbing it gently. "Sorry. Do you think you can walk?"

She nodded before he and Daryl helped her on her injured ankle and helped her walk through the woods filled with herds of walkers stumbling through the bushes with sharp thorns. Wilmur took lead to kill any walkers that got in their way while Daryl helped Beth walk.

A walker herd suddenly came out from behind a tree, forcing them to walk a bit faster but not run due to Beth's injured ankle. He stabbed some of them dead with his rock knife while leading others away. They quickly rushed to a tree with hundreds of thick branches to climb up on. Wilmur helped Beth climb up the tree with her arm wrapped around Daryl's waist as she climbed.

Wilmur climbed up afterwards, killing some walkers in the process and even one hiding in a huge hole in the tree. He stood on a thick branch just below Beth and Daryl's branch as he stared at the walkers arms reach in the air while they snarled and growled for their flesh. Wilmur clenched his knife tightly as he stared down at the walkers before darting his eyes to Beth to make sure she was okay.

Daryl held his crossbow and aimed it down at the walkers at the bottom of the tree, shooting ten of them down and leaving about thirty left. Wilmur unhooked a water bottle which was hooked to his belt and handed it up Beth who needed it for her injured ankle. Beth handed him some bullets she found for his pistol so he could shoot all of the walkers in order for them to get down.

Wilmur placed the bullets in his gun before turning the safety off and start shooting the walkers in the head from the top of the tall tree while Daryl used his crossbow. Each bullet Wilmur was firing was attracting more walkers but they had to get rid of the herd before they could worry about any other walkers stumbling through the woods.

The walkers snarled and growled louder at the ringing gunshots in their ears as they stared up at their fresh prey in the tree. Wilmur quickly reloaded his pistol before firing the bullets through the walkers brains again until each one of them was dead, leaving only a few walkers left who heard the gunshots.

"I think it's clear." Wilmur panted from climbing and running too much, placing the gun and knife in his belt. "I'll check though. Stay up here."

Daryl followed him down the tree and made sure there was no walker herds. Wilmur killed the few walkers that heard the gunshot while Daryl killed the walkers on the ground who didn't die. Wilmur darted his eyes past the trees and scanned the area while Daryl checked behind trees to not see or hear any walkers.

Wilmur looked back in the tree where Beth was still at. "It's clear!"

Beth struggled to climb back down the tree due to her injured ankle, but she gripped onto the branches so she couldn't fall or twist her swollen ankle even more. Daryl gripped her waist and helped her down, wrapping an arm around her to keep her from falling.

"You got her?" Wilmur asked Daryl.

The archer nodded. "Yeah. You just take lead. We'll follow you."

Wilmur nodded and held his pistol up before beginning to take small steps, watching out for any herds of walkers that's been chasing them down ever since they escaped the prison. They were never able to catch their breath until they found moonshine and got drunk, but that was more than a few weeks ago.

Ever since then, they've been running from herds of walkers while teaching Beth how to track and use a crossbow while searching for any clues left by Carl. They hadn't found any luck at all but instead back luck. Nothing but walkers were everywhere no mater where they go. It was why they couldn't go on any supply runs or barely get any sleep.

But Wilmur was determined to find shelter as soon as possible so he could rest and look for Carl easier. They needed a roof over their heads, some food in their hungry stomachs, and some rest in their eyes before they could look for Carl. After they find him, they could worry about finding long-lasting shelter.

The young teen guided Daryl and Beth through the dangerous woods with some walkers popping out from behind trees. He pulled his knife out of his belt and stabbed it through it's soft skull and into the brain. He held his pistol up again before tucking his knife back in his belt, pushing his dirty and bloody, grey flannel behind it so it was easier to grab.

Another walker came out from inside a tree trunk and jumped on him, but he simply smashed it off and shoved it against a sharp branch before slamming it in the thorns and sending his knife through it's skull. His eyes darted to Beth who was groaning in pain and then to Daryl who was staring at Beth softly.

Wilmur knew Daryl really cared for Beth and was determined to keep her alive just like him because she was the last innocence left. Judith was gone, every child from the prison was gone, and all of the people in the prison who never fought before in their life was gone. Beth was the last innocent and sweet one left from all the other violent killers in the world.

He sighed and picked up a small knife left on the walker's belt, tucking it in his belt before searching through the bag the walker had which was filled with nothing but comic books and empty water bottles.

Flashes of Carl flooded his mind as he stared at the comic books to which Carl would've loved. He could still remember walking in his cell to find him reading comic books with piles of others laying beside him on the floor. He remembered how Carl laughed at every joke he found in the comics and how he gasped at the surprising things and how he got angry when it ended with a cliffhanger.

It always made Wilmur laugh how much Carl loved comics, but now it made him want to cry because Carl wasn't there to read or laugh at the comics anymore. He remembered how he watched his thoughts turn all his attention to the comics while he stroked his hair and kissed his forehead as he laughed at Carl's love for comics. But now he couldn't hear that because his own father separated them from each other.

A single tear trailed down Wilmur's cheeks as he thought of his lover before quickly wiping it away and picking up the bag, wrapping it around his shoulder. He tied up the bag so nothing would fall out before picking his pistol up from the ground where he dropped it at.

"Why are you taking the comics?" Beth asked innocently.

"It's for Carl when I see him again." Wilmur replied. "He loves comics."

Beth smiled but it wasn't filled with joy and happiness. Instead, it had sadness and grief in it as soon as she thought of Carl. The little man who was like her younger brother who she took care of and cared for. She remembered how protective he was over her just like Wilmur and Daryl was now. But he was not with them but instead with Rick somewhere out in Georgia.

"Let's go." Wilmur's voice cracked due to the tears in his eyes as he thought of his boyfriend, pointing at the ground to see a clearing. "There's a track right here. It goes straight ahead."

Wilmur took the lead, holding his gun up as they slowly walked through the forest filled with packs of walkers while killing different walkers who got in their path. They could hear a bird shriek due to a walker ripping off it's feathers and tearing the flesh under. A bunch of birds suddenly flew above their heads, forcing them to walk a bit faster.

A walker herd suddenly jumped out of nowhere, forcing them to run the other way which led out of the forest where they've been stuck in more almost a month. Up ahead was a white building with hundreds of big graves surrounding it. The grass seemed a little bit more fresher than other grass did and hardly any leafs covered the ground.

"Wilmur, can we-can we hold up a sec?" Beth asked, struggling to walk on her twisted ankle.

"You all right?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes when Beth touched her boot where her swollen ankle was located.

"I just need to sit down." She replied.

Daryl glanced at Wilmur who was watching Beth move her twisted ankle around as she groaned in pain. They both knew how painful it was to have a sprained or twisted ankle and you're forced to walk on it. But they needed to keep going in case the herd hard followed them out of the woods.

Wilmur nodded at Daryl before turning his head to stare at the clean building ahead in the distance which was surrounded by graves. Surely the building was either a church or funeral home.

"All right. Hold up." Daryl told Wilmur, handing his crossbow over to him before bending in front of Beth with his back facing her, holding his arms up so he could hold Beth easily. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Beth asked.

"Yeah. This is a serious piggyback." Daryl replied. "Jump up."

Beth obeyed and jumped on Daryl's back, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly as Daryl tried to get a better grip on the surprisingly heavy teenage girl. He nodded at Wilmur to lead the way before walking toward the clean, white building.

Wilmur kept his pistol aimed toward he building as he stepped over the graves politely. His eyes narrowed at the clean grass, clean graves, and clean building. Someone must've lived there or used to live there and left not so long ago. If so, the church or funeral home should have ton of supplies such as food, weapons, and ammunition.

"It looks pretty clean." Wilmur said, his pistol still held up.

"Maybe there are people there." Beth suggested.

"Yeah, if there are, Wilmur and I will handle them." Daryl replied, his protectiveness over Beth rising again.

Beth sighed. "There are still good people, Daryl."

"I don't think the good ones survive."

Wilmur had stopped walking and turned around to face Daryl. "Carl was a good one, and he survived. So did Rick." He said.

"That's 'cause they're strong." Daryl replied. "Sometimes being strong can make you good."

"What about us?" Beth questioned, still riding on Daryl's back. "We may not be good, but we're strong. We survived."

Daryl grumbled. "Just 'cause we're strong, doesn't make us good."

Silence fell between the argument with Wilmur still leading the way. He walked past a certain grave which caught his eye, forcing him to stop walking. He lowered his pistol as he stared at the grave with sadness filling his crystal blue eyes with fresh tears filling them.

Beth and Daryl had stopped by the grave as well, causing Beth to fall off Daryl's back and on her injured ankle as she stared at the grave with sorrow filling her aqua blue eyes.

NOV 12th. 1837 Dec 10th. 1874 Beloved Father

Tears slowly stroll down Wilmur's cheeks as he remembered his father and who he was before the outbreak started. He used to be a caring, a loving, and funny man who always comforted him when he cried and wiped away his and Penny's tears. Somehow, he managed to put a smile on his lips even right after his mother's death. He protected and loved them more than anyone and anything in the world.

However, that all changed when the apocalypse started and Penny died. All he became was a heartless, a ruthless, a cold, and evil man who was mischievous to the destroyed world. He killed anyone who disagreed with him or went against him. He even started getting abusive toward him such as tying him up to a chair and punching him several times while lies and threats past his gritted teeth.

His father wasn't gone when he died, he was gone after Penny died. He's been dead inside ever since Penny died and a new man came named the Governor who wasn't his father. Instead, it was an evil and abusive man who hated and killed everyone to take their supplies or thought they would interfere with him.

When Wilmur finally found love after such a long time, the Governor abused him for it because the boy he loved was the son of a man he hated and did nothing to him. That wasn't his father because his actual father was really accepting. Not the Governor. The Governor wasn't his father at all.

Beth gently grasped onto Wilmur and Daryl's hand as they mourned over their father's deaths. Memories of their father's faces flashed by their minds like how lightning strikes a tree and then disappears. Visions of their fathers smiling and laughing flooded their depressed minds before it turned into a dead smile upon their lips and their face pale as snow.

"Let's...let's go." Daryl said upon hearing Beth and Wilmur sniffle. "We need to get inside."

Beth sniffled and wiped her nose before nodding and climbing on Daryl's back again while Wilmur led the way with his pistol held up. They slowly walked toward the white, clean building which was most likely a funeral home instead of a church. It looked as if someone lived there or used to due to it being clean and taken care of.

Wilmur quietly opened the front, clean door before banging on it while Daryl put Beth down and whistled to see if there was any walkers or people to surprise them. Wilmur held his index finger up to Beth, telling her to wait before they can walk in and check the rooms.

"It sounds quiet." Daryl said, holding his crossbow. "Y'all both stay behind me."

Wilmur and Beth held their pistols up as they followed behind Daryl, their blue eyes scanning the clean rooms as they looked at the pictures hanging from the clean walls. No grime or stained blood covered the clean walls and floors. Wilmur narrowed his eyes at the cleanliness while keeping his pistol held up just in case anyone lived there was hiding from them.

"It's so clean." Beth said confusedly, her pistol lowered.

"Yeah." Daryl replied with confusion in his voice as well. "Someone's been tending to it. May still be around."

Wilmur followed Daryl in a room filled with clean, wooden chairs with cushions as white as clouds sitting against it and facing a coffin with a dead, yet clean body in it. Makeup covered his entire face and flowers hovered over his dead body. His hands were properly placed over his stomach with his fingers curled together.

Daryl and Wilmur placed their dirty fingers against the man's cheek before pulling away and rubbing their fingers together. The man's body was still slightly fresh and really clean but also cold and pale. However, someone had been taking care of the body like people do in a funeral home. The person could still be nearby, and they had to be careful just in case they came back and found them in their house.

"It's clean." Wilmur said, his eyebrows furrowed. "Someone must be living here."

"Or they were." Daryl corrected. "Let's check downstairs."

Wilmur nodded and followed behind Daryl with his pistol pointed toward the downstairs which led into something like a basement. Beth placed a hand over his shoulder as she struggled to walk downstairs on her twisted ankle. Wilmur wrapped his arm around her waist to help her walk down the stairs and into the basement where the people in the funeral home performed the makeup on the dead person.

A man in a black suit laid on a table with makeup supplies laying against the counters. The man's skin was cold and pale yet fresh and almost filled with makeup. Wilmur ignored the bodies and opened up the cabinets to look for more supplies. He ravaged the makeup supplies out of the way to find nothing but a small knife and a bandage which could be used for Beth's ankle.

"Daryl." Wilmur said, handing the bandage over to him.

The archer took the bandage, tearing the plastic off with his teeth. "Let's get that ankle wrapped up."

Beth ignored Daryl and stared at the dead body which was dressed in a black suit and it's face filled up with makeup. She gently touched the black suit with her fingers and stroked it as disbelief and a surprised look filled her aqua blue eyes.

"What is it?" Wilmur asked softly, looking down at the man's dead body.

"It's beautiful." Beth replied, causing Wilmur's eyebrows to furrow in confusion. "Whoever did this...cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful?"

Wilmur and Daryl just stared at the dead man filled up with makeup and a black suit. All the dead people reminded them of was what the walkers had done to the world and what they did to make people go bad. In the end, everyone always ended up dying either from teeth or bullets. How could the dead be so beautiful now?

Their blue eyes softened when they darted to Beth who still had faith and believed in hope of a bright future. She was the only one left out of all of them who believed there was still a bright light left somewhere in the world. All she wanted for the world was some light and innocence. She didn't believe everyone and everything in the world was done and it was all about surviving. She believed in an innocent, bright future with a beauty of hope.

Wilmur and Daryl had lost all hope for a bright future in a destroyed and demolished world with dead people walking around. The only thing they believed and cherished in was the things they had left. They weren't sure if they believed in a good and bright place anymore because they lost all of it even before the prison got destroyed.

"C'mon." Daryl walked toward Beth with the bandage in his hand, taking off her boot and gently wrapping the bandage around her swollen, twisted ankle while Wilmur helped Beth hold herself up. "Is that better?"

Beth put her boot back on and placed her foot on the floor, walking around the room with Wilmur behind her just in case she fell down. "Yeah, it feels a lot better. Thanks."

Daryl grumbled and walked back upstairs with Wilmur and Beth following from behind with their pistols lowered. Wilmur checked all of the rooms to make sure no walker or person was hiding, only to find a dead body laying in a coffin in each room. He picked up a crate which was filled with potato chips and two bottles of wine which was half way full he found on the table with a white cloth.

"Look what I found." Wilmur smirked, laying the wine and crate filled with chips on the table. "I win."

Beth smirked. "No you don't." She giggled, laying peanut butter and jelly, pigs feet, three cans filled with beans, and a can of corn on the table.

"What the hell?" Wilmur said playfully. "Where in the hell did you get those?"

Beth giggled and pointed at the cabinet filled with diet coke, cans of beans, cans of corn, cans of peaches, peanut butter and jelly, wheat bread, olives, and some pig's feet. Wilmur laughed and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out two cans of peaches and a bottle of diet coke before setting it on the table.

"Why don't we just take all of it?" Wilmur questioned, sitting down on the table before opening the can of peaches and eating it with his fingers since there was no forks.

"People might still live here." Beth replied. "We wanna leave some for them since it's their stash. I mean, we can take all of it but Daryl didn't want to."

"Really?" Wilmur said in disbelief, giggling and pointing at Daryl playfully. "Now, I can understand if Beth wants to leave some food, but you?"

Daryl chuckled. "Gotta save lives to keep humanity goin'." Daryl joked, sitting down between him and Beth before opening a jar of pig feet.

"You also gotta get peaches before anyone else gets them." Wilmur joked, giggling and placing another peach in his mouth. "All of the peaches are mine."

The man drove down the middle of the woods toward the one camp who destroyed his and took his son away before stopping in the middle of the woods and getting out of the car. Slowly, he walked down the woods with his rough hand placed over his gun held in his holster.

He stopped as soon as he saw the camp's fences to see the same father and son he saw six or seven months ago. The same father of the son who destroyed his old camp and took his son away from him. The same son of the father who his own son fell in love with.

Anger and rage filled his one, blue eye as he pulled his pistol out of his holster, pointing it toward the son of the father who he hated and who his stupid son fell in love with. Once he shoots him, he'll keep the father alive so he and his son could suffer over the son of the father he hated death.

But then he realized everything could all go another, easy way. He could capture and take some of them hostage before marching up to their fences and force them to give him the camp or he would destroy it. Then he would force them to give his son back to him or he'd kill the father, some hostages, and the boy his son loved.

He lowered the gun and glared at them with one of his most deadliest glare before it softened upon hearing a young woman and an old man chatting. He slowly walked toward the chattering to see the same two people he hated in the camp's group. He especially hated the black woman who took away someone precious to him and he hated how the old man was so innocent.

He would take them both hostage, convince his camp that they had to kill some bad people, then march up to the bad camp's fences and either make a deal or massacre.

Slowly, he lowered the gun he didn't even know he had pointed at the black woman with the sword. He quietly snuck behind both of their backs before knocking the black woman out and pointing the gun at the old man who had his pistol held up. The man shook his head to warn him and the old man lowered his gun and held his hands up.

In just a few hours, he'll meet the people he hated more than anyone and anything else on the planet...and his son.

"Stop! I'm begging you!" Carl screamed and cried in his sleep, jerking off the log he was sleeping his head against. "You don't have to do this! You can come back!"

Rick and Michonne quickly dashed to the wailing and squirming young teen who was panicking. Michonne pulled Carl into a tight embrace, but he fought back and slammed his fist against her chest as his wailed shattered their hearts to pieces. Rick wrapped his arms around his son, but Carl smacked him off by kicking him in the stomach.

The young teen screamed as he shoved the two adults off him while tears violently spilled down his dirty cheeks with more pouring out of his eyes every half a second. He flailed his legs and waved his arms in the air as he panicked in fear upon still seeing his night terror. Heartbreaking sobs escaped his chapped lips as wails slipped out of his throat.

Rick and Michonne stared in fear with tears visible in their eyes as they watched the poor teen scream and cry and thrash around too violently, unable to give him any source of comfort to calm his heart wrenching tears and heartbreaking sobs.

A single tear trailed down Rick's cheek and soaked into his beard filled with droplets of blood as he watched his son thrash around uncontrollably and wail too loudly that it'll make him go deaf.

"What am I suppose to do?" Rick sobbed. "I can't just stand by and watch."

Michonne sighed sadly with tears in her brown eyes as she watched Carl scream and cry while thrashing around. "I'll give it another try. Hold my sword." She said, handing her sword to Rick.

Slowly with fear, she made her way over to the young teen and gently wrapped her arms around him, just barely touching him. However, it was enough to make him scream even louder and add more violence to his thrashing. His knuckles slammed against Michonne's cheek as he screamed in fear.

The samurai collapsed to the ground filled with leafs as she watched Carl scream and wail with his entire body flailing in panic and fear of his night terror. Tears filled Michonne's eyes as she slowly made her way to Rick with her head bowed while tears spilled down her dirty cheeks.

"We have to let him go through it." Michonne's voice cracked. "There's nothing we can do."

"He's gonna attract a herd." Rick whispered under his sobbing breath.

"Who cares, Rick?!" Michonne snapped as her tears cleaned her cheeks. "Your son is seriously going through a hard time. He's more important than worrying about walkers!"

Rick stared at his son with sorrow in his blue eyes as tears soaked into his beard while watching his son scream and thrash violently. If they didn't wake him up, he's going to hurt himself, but there was nothing they could do about it because Wilmur wasn't there to give Carl comfort.

"Wilmur, please!" Carl screamed. "Why would you do this to me?!"

A walker suddenly popped out from behind a tree, growling louder as soon as he heard Carl's cries of fear and screams of begging while his body thrashed against the branches on the ground violently. Michonne chopped it's head off with her sword and sent it through it's soft skull.

Rick rushed over to Carl and took him in his arms, but Carl smashed him off with the beautiful rock Wilmur had given him. Rick ignored the rejection his son had given him and instead, gently pressed his hand against his mouth to muffle his cries. He didn't press down too hard for him unable to breathe, but not hard enough to muffle his screams and cries.

"Carl, you gotta be quiet." Rick whispered but Carl smashed his rock against him again. "Carl, please!"

A walker herd suddenly came out of nowhere, forcing Rick to carry his squirming son and for Michonne to take lead. Carl smashed his rock hard against Rick's chest as he thrashed in his arms. It was nearly impossible to carry his squirming son, but he managed to get a death grip on him so he wouldn't fall out of his arms.

Michonne led them out of the woods and away from the dangerous walker herd, killing a few walkers on the tracks which would eventually lead to Terminus. The walker herd chased them down the tracks for hours until it was finally far too dark for the walkers to find them.

Rick collapsed to the tracks with his now awake son who was still held in his arms. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as his horrific nightmare flashed in his mind. He could still feel Wilmur's knife being sunken in his stomach from the nightmare and how he screamed in his ears as he beat him nearly to death.

"Carl? Carl?" His father's voice ringed in his ears. "Are you awake? Are you okay?"

The young teen trembled nearly to death as his red and puffy eyes darted to his father who had reassurance in his eyes while his rough palm rubbed soothing circles on his back through his shirt. Carl sobbed into his father's chest as his shaking fingers gripping onto his brown jacket tightly.

"You're okay." Rick soothed, rubbing circles on his son's back. "It was just a dream. It's over."

Michonne wrapped her arms from around Carl's back as she stroked his damp hair out of his face before rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders through his dirty, blue flannel. He buried her face in her neck and cried softly into it as their touches soothed his tears and sobs.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Michonne's soothing voice whispered in his ear.

Carl shook his head against her neck as his tears slowly dripped on it. He sniffled and wiped his nose after pulling away from the warm embrace Michonne and his father was giving him.

"What do we do now?" Carl sobbed. "I don't wanna go back to sleep."

Michonne and Rick's eyes saddened as they rubbed small circles on his back and shoulder bones. The nightmares Carl was having was so bad that he was even frightened to face the fact he had to go to sleep. Ever time he closed his tired eyes, nightmares would flash in his scared mind and he hated facing it.

"We have to rest if we're gonna get to Terminus." Rick replied. "Besides, it's too dangerous to travel in the night. We can't see anything. We'll rest here, but I promise first thing in the morning, we will keep traveling."

Carl nodded before sniffling and resting his head against Michonne's shoulder to fall asleep with her hand gently rubbing his back through his shirt while Rick took watch.

As soon as his eyes closed, he fell into another nightmare.

Wilmur helped Daryl put up cans attached to wires so in case anyone or anything came on their porch, they would hear it. Wilmur used the empty can of peaches he ate while Daryl put up the corn and bean cans. He picked up the two bottles of wine and placed them on the front step so they could hear if anyone knocked it over and broke it.

Daryl wrapped the wire around the cans while Wilmur wrapped a rope around the bottles of wine and tied it against the pole so no one could pick it up and not get caught. He looked up in the dark sky which covered the bright moon and beautiful stars with dark clouds, causing their world to be almost pitch black.

They both could hear Beth singing beautifully while playing a piano they found in another room. Wilmur weakly smiled before walking inside to the room where Beth was singing with her beautiful voice as she played gentle music on the piano. She sung as she read the beautiful piece in the piano booklet so she could play the piano while she sung.

Daryl cleared his throat, capturing Beth's attention. "The place is nailed up tight. The only way in is through the front door."

Beth nodded as she and Wilmur watched Daryl jump in the coffin with clean, white cushions. He draped his arm over the back of his head as he sighed with relief. He shifted his body a bit to get comfortable as he laid in the coffin where a dead body once laid in.

"What're you doin?" Beth asked, looking at him funny.

Daryl ignored Beth as he shifted a bit more to get comfortable. "This is the comfiest bed I've had in years." He admitted.

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows. "Really?"

"I ain't kidding." Daryl replied, sighing with relief as he laid his head against the soft, coffin pillow with his eyes darting to Beth. "Why don't you go ahead and play some more? Keep singing."

Wilmur chuckled. "Okay, that's three shockers today. First, you say we should leave food for whoever lives here. Then you say a coffin is the comfiest bed you had in years even after all the beds you've found. And now you want Beth to sing even though you hate it?"

"He's right." Beth replied. "I thought my singing annoyed you."

Daryl shrugged. "There ain't no jukebox, so..."

Beth grinned and turned her body back around to play her fingers against the piano keys as she continued to sing with her beautiful voice. Wilmur smiled and sat on one of the wooden chairs with cushions before pulling a Spiderman comic book out of bag and started reading it as he listened to Beth sing and play the piano.

His eyes stayed more focused on Beth's singing than the comic as he listened to each key she played on the piano while she sung with beauty in her voice. He flipped through the pages of the comic and scanned each page too fast unlike Carl would. His eyes darted to Daryl who had his eyes closed but not too tight like they usually were.

They could finally catch up on their sleep and rest and eat without any herds of walkers chasing them down or sleeping with one eye open in fear or eating with their stomachs churned with nervousness. They could finally rest and leave the next day feeling a lot better than they did the other day.

Wilmur closed his eyes and sighed as he closed the comic and placed it back in the bag before laying down on the chairs while listening to Beth's peaceful singing. Instead of hearing wolfs howl or owls whistle through the night crispy air, he can finally fall asleep peacefully to Beth's singing.

His eyes shut his eyes as he relaxed and pictured his lover's face playing in a river in the moonlight as the river rocks sparkled against it with water running over it while Beth sang with her calming and beautiful voice. Everything sounded so peaceful with the rushing river and Beth's singing echoing in their ears as he kissed Carl.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep peacefully with Beth's voice still singing in his ears and Carl's laughing still ringing in his ears. A tiny smile crept on his lips as he finally had a good dream about Carl and being with him in the nature of the green forest.

Carl laughed as he played in the rushing, beautiful river as the clear water ran against his pale skin and against the sparkling river rocks. A smile crept on his lips as soon as he saw Wilmur standing on one of the sparkling rocks who was smiling as he watched him play in the beautiful river.

His hand motioned for him to join him in the river as he splashed and jumped around. Wilmur giggled and jumped in the river, walking toward him and wrapping his arms around his slender body before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead and led it up into his soft hair. Carl giggled and wrapped his arms around his neck as he brought him in for a deep kiss.

Wilmur smiled through the kiss and slipped his tongue in, fighting with Carl's as his hands gripped his soft hair and deepened the passionate and tender kiss as the rushing river ran over their pale skin.

The bright moonlight shined upon them and made Carl's beautiful blue eyes sparkle and his skin shine against the gorgeous moonlight while Wilmur's eyes glowed against the river and his pale skin gleamed in the moonlight.

Carl ran his hands over his stomach and chest as he felt his soft skin while his tongue fought with his tongue while their lips touched. Wilmur slipped his hand through Carl's pants and felt all around as he moved his soft lips to his sensitive neck. Carl moaned as his teeth gently nibbled against his neck while Carl's hands gently rubbed his stomach and chest.

The two lovers fell onto a rock with Carl being on the bottom and Wilmur being on the top as Wilmur gently pushed him against the rock and sucked his neck, leaving a mark. Carl grabbed Wilmur by the neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss upon the soft and warm lips.

Accidently, Wilmur pushed Carl into the rushing water while he fell with him. The rushing river pushed them down the river as they held onto each other's bodies while their tongues fought. He could feel Carl grinning through the kiss as they deepened it with passion and tenderness running through their steamy veins.

Finally, they washed up on a big, sparkling rock with Wilmur on top of Carl, kissing him with passion and too much tenderness as their tongues fought while they gripped onto each other. Carl pulled his soft and warm lips away from his and placed them against his neck with peppering kisses.

Wilmur moaned and gripped the back of his younger lover's neck as his neck was peppered with soft and passionate kisses filled with tenderness. They felt the river run across their soft skin which was sprinkled with soft and rough kisses as they touched each other gently.

Finally, Wilmur kissed just below Carl's ear before whispering. "I love you so much."

Wilmur fluttered his eyes opened and greeted the sunlight shining through the dark curtains before he touched his soft lips once he realized they weren't pressed against Carl's like they were suppose to be. He sighed and lifted himself up on his elbows with his fingers still stroking his soft lips. His glanced toward the piano chair where Beth was sleeping and then to the coffin where Daryl was sleeping peacefully.

A tiny smile tugged to his lips as he drove his fingers away from them before standing up and making his way to the bathroom to use it before coming back in the room to find Beth awake. A smile crept to her lips as he stepped into the room with light black sags under his eyes from sleeping in and his hair messed up from sleeping.

"Good morning." Wilmur greeted, smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

Beth smiled. "I feel a lot better now that I got a decent sleep."

"So did I." Wilmur smiled softly, looking at Daryl who was still fast asleep. "Do you think we should wake Daryl up?

Beth's eyes darted to the archer who was sleeping more peacefully than she ever saw him sleep in her entire life. Even in the prison he slept with one eye opened while his other was closed far too tight due to having a nightmare and being cautious but now he was sleeping well. Better than he was in such a long time.

The teen shook her head. "No. Let him sleep. He hasn't had it in a long time."

Wilmur placed a sleepy smile on his lips as he laid against the wooden chairs with white cushions before flopping out his legs and draping his arm over the back of his head. He felt around his cheeks where the bruises were once dark purple but now light pink due to the healing. His black eyes were almost heal and his chapped lips were no longer busted.

Every bruise plastered on his arms from his abusive father was now no longer big and dark purple and infected but was now smaller and a light pink which had healed after being infected from the dirt and blood. Scars were left from when his father slapped or scratched him too hard but they weren't deep cuts anymore.

He wasn't sure if he should care about what his father did to him or not because all he cared about now was finding Carl. Nothing else in the world mattered to him. He didn't need food or water or shelter to be satisfied but he needed Carl. He needed him to be by his side and in his broken heart which should be put back together as soon as he found Carl.

His anger and rage toward his father wouldn't make anything any better but would only make it worse by breaking his hurt heart and shattering it to tiny pieces. He wasn't sure if he'll ever forget what happened but he had to let go of it. His father was dead and gone. The war was over and there was nothing he could do to go back in time and change everything that happened. The only way he was going to heal over what happened was if he let it go.

His eyes darted to Beth whose head was buried in her arms laying against the piano. He smiled weakly as he watched her yawn softly and lay her body against the soft piano seat again. To him, she really was the last innocent person left in a world filled with monsters. She still had faith that there was goodness and bright light left somewhere in the world and was determined to find it. To her, it didn't matter how much disgusting people and darkness and danger there was in the world now because she believed in light and hope.

No matter what happened, he and Daryl were going to protect the innocence left in Beth because everyone needed it more than anything to keep themselves going. If they didn't have her innocence, they doubted they would still be here today. She showed hope and faith for a hopeful, bright future for them all. Her hope and faith was what kept he and Daryl alive and the entire group alive for so long. They weren't going to lose the last innocent person they had left in the monstrous world.

"So what's the plan?" Wilmur asked, breaking the silence. "We gonna stay here another day or we gonna leave when Daryl wakes up?"

Beth shrugged, letting a big yawn escape her lips. "We can stay another day. It's up to Daryl. But if we're gonna find Carl then we have to leave as soon as possible."

Wilmur sighed softly. "I wish he was here. He doesn't deserve to be out in the woods alone."

"...Can I ask you somethin'?" Beth asked and Wilmur nodded. "Why didn't you just escape with Carl? You didn't have to go after me and Daryl but you did. Why?"

Wilmur sighed deeply as he recalled the last moments and words he gave to Carl. He remembered how heartbreaking and heart wrenching the final moments between them were because ever since the war with the Governor ended, he's never left Carl's side even when he started going on thousands of runs until the day the Governor destroyed the prison.

He could've escaped with Carl. He could've been with him right now if he stayed with him and Rick instead of running off to search for something he shouldn't have even searched for. He told himself he ran off to search for Daryl but it wasn't true and it wasn't an excuse. If he was truly honest to himself, he didn't know why he didn't just escape with Carl but instead with Daryl and Beth.

One of his promises was to truly stand by Carl side no matter what happened and how many people died, but he broke it just like he broke all of his other promises. But he swore that he would never leave Carl again after he found him. This time, he'll keep his promise he always broke to Carl. No one and nothing will get in his way to keep the promise he desperately needed to keep to Carl.

"I use to tell myself it was because I had to find Daryl. But now that I think about it, I just put someone else over my own boyfriend. Running off for Daryl wasn't an excuse. I know I should've escaped with him. So I don't really know why I didn't escape with him."

Beth sighed sadly as she remembered Carl and Wilmur's strong and loving relationship. Wilmur was always determined to protect Carl even before their relationship started. But now Wilmur's father had came and tried to destroy the love they had for each other. He was unable to because their love was far too strong but he was able to separate them like he always wanted to.

"I think this is what your dad wanted." Beth said. "He didn't want you and Carl together. So he did the only two things he could do. Either take you back or destroy the prison and separate everyone. He succeeded in that."

Tears filled Wilmur's eyes and spilled on his cheeks. "And I let him win. If I just escaped with Carl, then he would've lost! I would've won!" He cried softly.

Beth moved from the soft, piano chair and made her way over to Wilmur, sitting beside him and wrapped her comforting arm around him to pull him in for a warm embrace. She gently rubbed his shoulder bones just like she did when she hugged Daryl to comfort him a little more than a few weeks ago.

"We're gonna find him, and you can apologize to him then." Beth said softly as she rubbed circles on his back.

Wilmur sniffled and buried his face in her neck. "A simple apology wouldn't be enough." He cried.

"Yes, it would." Beth retorted. "Finding Carl will make up for all of it. I promise."

The young teen sniffled and pulled away from the older teen's tight embrace as he wiped the tears from his cheeks and eyes. His eyes darted to Beth who had a source of comfort, caring, and hope in it. She placed her soft palm on his shoulder and rubbed tiny circles on it with her thumb.

Wilmur forced on a tiny smile upon his lips as he glanced at Daryl who was still fast asleep peacefully. He hoped to be just as relaxed as him in the future when he's with Carl and he's in his strong arms. The huge gap between their soft lips would be bound to be closed soon and their hands would be feeling each other as they hold each other.

Soon, they would be together again after such a long time.

Dark, black sags were visible under Carl's droopy eyes as his face turned paler and paler from the lack of sleep due to the nightmares and lack of food because of how harsh it was to find some. He sat on the side of the tracks with his knees against his chest and his face buried in them as the nightmare flashed in his mind.

Michonne's comforting arm was wrapped around his shoulder as she mummered comforting words in his ears as he gasped softly from reminiscing the terrifying nightmare. Rick stood not too far from them as he watched the mother-like figure comfort his depressed son. He wished he could give him all the comfort he had, but he couldn't because after Lori died, he stopped being there for him. Wilmur had to step in and take care and comfort him back onto his feet. If he hadn't left his son, then he could be the one comforting Carl from his night terrors instead of Wilmur.

Finally, Michonne made her way back over to Rick with her hand touching her sword on her back just in case any walker happened to sneak up on them. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy as she stared back at the young teen who still had his face buried in his knees.

"Is he okay?" Rick whispered so Carl wouldn't hear.

Michonne sniffled, wiping her nose. "No. I just can't make him feel better. He needs Wilmur."

Rick sighed as his eyes filled with sympathy darted to his upset son who had nothing but nightmares in his scared mind. He wondered what his son dreamed about the other night that frightened him. He was begging for Wilmur to stop doing whatever he was doing and yelling he could come back from an unknown monster inside him.

Carl had dreamed about Wilmur hurting him just like the Governor did during the war and after. He needed to desperately talk to his son and try to pull him from the fear Carl didn't even know he had inside him. But no one could bring him back from the horrifying fear except Wilmur, but he wasn't there. Wilmur was the only one who could remind him that he would never hurt him and would always love him instead.

Rick and Michonne now understood why Carl refused to tell Wilmur and the rest of them what his horrific nightmares were about. It was because if Wilmur figured out he was hurting him in dream, it would frighten him. It would cause a strong tension between them and everyone a part of their group.

"Maybe I should talk to him." Rick whispered.

Michonne shook her head. "We've already did that a hundred times. It never worked."

"I can't just sit here!" Rick said a bit louder but not as loud for Carl to here. "He's my son. I have to do something."

"Even if you did, it wouldn't work." Michonne replied, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to fight back her tears. "Nothing will make him better. We need Wilmur."

Rick sighed sadly as he glanced at his son. "But he's not here. What'd do we do until he gets here?"

"We wait." Michonne replied. "There's nothing we can do except that. But I promise, it'll get better when he's here."

The father buried his sweating face in his sweaty palms as he breathed his stress and worry into them while he listened to his son's quiet sobs. Since the night terrors came back in that one house, it only got worse not only for him, but for he and Michonne as well. It didn't only attract hundreds of walkers but it also attracted stress, worry, and sympathy for Carl.

It all because of the Governor and what he's done to the prison and everyone who once lived in it. He was the one who planted the nightmare seed in his brain and Wilmur caused it to grow roots because he was the Governor's son. Even though Carl loved him more than anyone, he still somehow frightened him because he had the Governor's blood inside him despite having different hearts.

"We need to get to Terminus." Rick said. "We've been behind. Wilmur might already be there."

Michonne softened her eyes as they looked to Rick. "Yeah, but Carl hasn't slept all night. He needs to catch up on it."

"I don't think he's gonna fall asleep again until we get there." Rick's voice cracked. "If we keep moving, then he'll eventually get too tired to walk."

Michonne sighed and made her way back over to the young teen who still had his face buried deep in his knees with a few tears dripping on his blue jeans, leaving some damp spots. Slowly, she wrapped her strong arm around him and brought him in for a tight embrace as she rubbed gentle circles on his back.

"Come on." Michonne said softly, helping him lift himself off the ground beside the tracks. "We gotta get to Terminus. Wilmur could already be there."

"Well, finally." Wilmur joked as Daryl awoke.

The archer stared at the black hair teen and the blonde hair older teen while they stared with smirks on their lips and chuckles rippling out of their throats as they tried to fight back their giggles. Daryl squinted his eyes at the teens before lifting himself up on his bruised elbows and pushing himself out of the soft coffin.

"How long did I sleep?" Daryl asked with a hoarse voice from just waking up. "Don't you tell me y'all let me sleep in."

Wilmur giggled. "Oops. Sorry."

Daryl glared but couldn't fight the tiny smile from appearing on his chapped lips as he stared at the giggling teens. He rubbed his eyes to clean out the droopiness and tiredness before picking up a water bottle from a table and taking tiny sips.

He squeezed the water bottle after it was empty and threw it on the clean floor. "Let's go eat some breakfast." He said, his voice still hoarse.

"More like dinner." Wilmur joked, smirking.

They picked up the weapons they laid down either on the floor, the chairs, the tables, or the piano before walking toward the kitchen slowly due to Beth limping on her injured ankle. She gripped onto Wilmur and Daryl's shoulders as she struggled to keep up with them while walking to the kitchen.

Daryl huffed playfully to Beth. "Walk faster."

"I'm goin' as fast as I can." Beth replied innocently, bringing a chuckle from Wilmur's lips.

Daryl sighed, picking Beth up so she didn't have to limp on her ankle anymore. "Forget that."

Wilmur laughed as he watched Daryl pull Beth into his strong arms while Beth shrieked playfully and laughing, wrapping her fragile arms around his neck with Wilmur opening the kitchen door. He continued to laugh as he watched Daryl set Beth in a chair and pant due to how heavy she is despite her being underweight.

The young teen took the chair next to Beth, grabbing a can of peaches and peeling the surface open while Daryl made his way back to his chair which was sitting across from Beth. He picked up the pig's feet jar and screwed it open before placing one in his mouth with a smile of relief on his lips.

"All right. Let's eat." Daryl said.

However, as soon as Wilmur placed the first peach in his mouth and let the juiciness slip across his taste buds, the cans outside on the front porch rattle, signaling someone of something was there. Wilmur quickly stood up, placing his hand over his knife as he attempted to follow Daryl outside.

"Stay." Daryl told him and Beth, rushing to the front door.

Daryl needed to keep Beth and Wilmur safe because he was they were the last loved ones he had left. However, although Wilmur was close and special to him, he needed him to stay behind with Beth so he could protect the last innocence they had left. If she died, there would be no light and hope in the world because Beth was the last of it.

Wilmur had to keep the last innocence left in the world alive and safe just like he did with Carl before. He trusted Wilmur to protect her more than himself. He was the only one who was able to keep the innocent ones alive.

The young teen looked at the older as he stood in front of her just in case anyone or anything stepped in, he would be able to protect her from it. He clenched his knife tightly as he was ready to charge at whatever or whoever would come in.

"It's just a damn dog!" Daryl called from the front door.

Wilmur sighed and tucked his knife back into his belt before walking toward the front door with Beth behind him. He stood out of the kitchen doorway to see Daryl shutting the door after the starving, scared dog ran off.

"He wouldn't come in?" Beth asked, disappointment in her innocent voice.

Since her father was a veterinarian, she loved animals. She always took care of them back on her farm despite feeding chickens to walkers when she and her family thought they were still alive but sick. She brushed and fed the horses before feeding the chicklets while doing her chores around the farm. But all of the animals died the day walkers overran the farm.

Wilmur, however, never had a dog or a pet before despite always wanting one. He remembered begging his mother for one but she always told him it would take a lot of work since no one was home to really take care of it all day. His father didn't mind getting one, but his mother made the final decision which was no. But nowadays, dogs were one of the only foods they could find and they were given no choice but to eat them.

Daryl's strict glare and voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "I told y'all to stay back."

"Yeah, but, Daryl, you said there was a dog." Beth replied, weakly smiling at how protective he was over her.

Daryl's strict glare and voice softened at the disappointed glint in Beth's aqua blue eyes and was quick to realize she was disappointed because the sweet dog who didn't try to attack them wouldn't come in the house. He knew how much Beth loved pets because of her father's job before the outbreak.

"Maybe he'll come back around." Daryl said, hoping to make her feel better before grabbing her arm gently to help her walk back in the kitchen. "C'mon."

The three walk back in the kitchen and sat in their chairs again before continuing to eat their food. Wilmur stuffed each juicy peach in his mouth before grabbing the peanut butter and scooping it in his mouth with his fingers. He watched as Beth ate a can of corn and drink the diet coke while Daryl ate the pig feet and pieces of bread.

They ate in silence despite how loud they were chewing on the soft food and how loud their gulps were when they sipped down some diet coke before going in for more food. The delectable flavors made their mouths water and drool on their chin as they taste spreaded across their taste buds and sunk into their starving stomach.

Wilmur wondered if Carl had enough food to eat at the moment. He hated the thought of him starving nearly to death and going dyhrated from the lack of water. They always had enough food in the prison so he never got to see Carl starve and he never wanted to. He wanted Carl to be alive and safe and happy with his stomach filled with food and his tongue not dry because of water, but they were living in a world with hardly any food or water left at all.

He wished for Carl to be by his side so he could've experienced the food they haven't eaten since the apocalypse started and the comfortable cushions they were sleeping on in the warm building which shielded them from dangerous walker herds in the dark and scary woods.

All he wanted was to live a happy life with Carl somewhere safe where they had quality and happy time together so they didn't have to worry about the unrestingly dead and the dangerous people in the world filled with monsters. But the Governor had ruined all of the chances of living happy together and having a happily ever after.

When he finds Carl, he'll figure out a way to still be happy and safe together no matter how many walker herds are chasing them down and how much they fear the living instead of the dead.

"So what do we do?" Wilmur asked, interrupting the silence between them.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"Do we stay here another day or we leave after we eat?"

Daryl thought for a moment as he ate the pig feet and washed away the flavor with diet coke. "It'll be getting dark soon. Might as well stay another day."

Wilmur smiled weakly and continued to eat some peaches while sharing some bread with Daryl before drinking some of the diet coke. He watched as Beth smile while she ate the delectable food. Beth handed him and Daryl a can of corn before they cracked it open with their knives and poured the entire can corn down there tongue as if it was a drink.

He stared through the window to see the sun was getting ready to set in thirty minutes or an hour due to the sky getting slightly darker. He stuffed a piece of wheat bread in his mouth before looking back at Daryl and watching him eat like a pig.

"Y'all could've ate without me." Daryl interrupted the silence this time. "I know y'all were starving."

"We didn't want to eat without you." Wilmur replied, grabbing a can of green beans and opening it before stuffing it in his mouth.

Daryl shrugged. "So? I slept till dinner. Y'all could've either woken me up or eaten without me. I didn't want ya to starve." He said, his protectiveness over them rising in his veins again.

"You needed the sleep." Beth replied. "You're the one who takes care of us and take watch at night. You needed it."

"Then y'all could've ate without me." Daryl argued.

"We wanted to eat together." Wilmur said. "We didn't want to leave you out. We're not doing something like that again."

Memories of the flu spreading around the prison flashed darkly in their minds as they remembered how Wilmur refused to take medicine while they were on the run to find medicine for people so he wouldn't risk a sick person's life. Yet, he was sick also and left himself out of the medicine until it was delivered to the sick people in the prison.

Wilmur wasn't going to do the same to one of his loved ones. He protected everyone he loved and put them first and him last just so they could be safe. He wasn't going to leave Daryl out like he left himself out when he was sick on that run a month or so ago.

Daryl sighed and continued to eat the pig feet while dipping his fingers in peanut butter and jelly before drinking some of the diet coke. Silence fell between them again as they enjoyed the delectable food while Wilmur continued to wonder if Carl was doing okay.

Night time was about to fall. The sun had already set and was almost out of the sky. The stars and half of the moon was creeping through the trees as it shined against the leafs.

Rick and Michonne gravitated near Carl as they watched him draw pictures on a tree with his sharp knife while he stared up it to see a wooden pallet with fences gathered around it. He narrowed his eyes toward it while Rick and Michonne stared and whispered about him out of concern and worry.

"He'll wake up from another nightmare tonight." Rick whispered to Michonne. "What do we do?"

Michonne sighed before burying her face in her sweaty palms out of stress. "I don't know. Maybe we can play a game to make him feel better. Maybe tell him a funny story?"

"What funny story?" Rick questioned. "There's nothing funny about the world no more."

"I meant before all this." Michonne replied. "We could tell him life as kids or life in high school."

Rick widened his eyes. "Oh, God. Please not high school." He chuckled.

Michonne laughed. "I can't wait to hear it. I'm sure Carl would love it."

Rick sighed and looked over to his son who was staring straight up a tree while carving a picture against the bark with a frown tugged against his lips. He was tired of seeing the same frown every day and he wanted it to turn into a bright smile like how Carl smiled back in the prison after the war with the Governor.

If his high school stories was the only thing that would put a smile against his son's lips, then he'd be willing to tell the funny and insane things he did in high school. He'd finally be able to make his son laugh again after almost a long time. He would be the one to make him smile and laugh instead of Michonne or Wilmur doing it.

"Hey, Carl." Rick said, walking toward him and placing a hand on his shivering shoulder. "I'm gonna tell you a funny story."

Carl bowed his head as his blue eyes darted to a broken branch laying below his dirty shoes. "What kind of story?" He mumbled, hoping it wouldn't be a childish story like Carol told children in the prison during story time before she started to teach the kids how to survive when an adult left.

"It's not the story you'll think it is." Rick replied. "It's a high school story."

A tiny smile tugged against Carl's lips as he looked up at his father and nodded. "Okay, but can we get up the tree first. There's a wooden floor up there with fences. We might be safer up there in case I wake up screaming again."

Rick stared up the tree to see the same wooden pallet Carl saw which was surrounded by fences. It was big enough for all three of them to fit up there and it would be safe in case any walker herds happened to pass by.

"That's good." Rick patted his son's back. "Go ahead and climb up there. I'll get Michonne."

Carl nodded and began climbing up the tree filled with thick branches for him to step on easily while Rick made his way back over to Michonne who was smiling at Carl as he climbed the tree.

"There's a wooden floor up there with fences." Rick told the samurai. "We're gonna sleep up there tonight in case any walkers come."

Michonne smiled and nodded, walking toward the tree and climbing up it with her sword tied against her back as she grabbed each branch and lifted herself up and stepped on each branch until she managed to reach the wooden floor with Carl pulling her up. Rick climbed up last with Michonne and his son pulling him up by the time he could reach the pallet.

Carl took off his hat and laid it on the floor before resting his head against it as his eyes gazed to the moon and stars shining brightly through the leafs and reflecting against his pale skin. He listened to the owls howling in the trees while jar bugs chattered in the night crisp air.

"What's your high school story, Dad?" Carl asked, hoping to take his mind off all the nightmares he's had.

Rick cleared his throat. "Well, as you know, Shane is in this story." He said before starting.

"Of course he is." Carl joked, chuckling softly as he continued to listen to his father's insane story.

"Anyway, there was this girl I liked." Rick continued, making Carl and Michonne already giggle. "I told Shane about her...and he told everyone."

Carl giggled softly, causing his father to smirk in victory while Michonne gave him a small smile. If he could keep it up, he could get a laugh out of Carl in no time!

"So one day, Shane brought the girl to meet me so we could go out. Meanwhile, I was too busy shoving a kid in his locker." Rick giggled.

Carl laughed. "Oh my God, Dad. She didn't see, did she?"

Rick smirked. "Oh, yeah. She saw." He smiled and Carl bursted into laughter.

Michonne giggled while Rick smiled as they watched Carl laugh too hard from the story. They succeeded in bringing his depressed mind off the horrifying night terrors he's been having for almost a month now. He didn't want his son to be so depressed and frightened to fall asleep in another nightmare. He wanted him to be happy even in a world filled with dead people walking around along with monstrous people.

"What-what did y-you do?!" Carl struggled to say through his barely contained laughter.

Rick giggled at his son's laughter. "I just let the kid out of the locker and she stared at me funny the entire time." He laughed, making Carl laugh harder and even bringing a giggle from Michonne.

"Did-did you go out-out with her?!" Carl asked through his laughter.

Rick smiled and nodded. "Yeah. We went on a few dates."

Carl laughed a bit longer than he was meant to before he finally calmed down, his face red from the laughter. He's never seen his son laugh so much before the outbreak started. The grin plastered on his son's chapped lips grew as he continued to think about the funny, high school story while he laid on his hat.

Rick smirked in victor before gravitating near his son protectively with his back to his, their smiles still plastered over their chapped lips from the funny story.

"Hey, Dad?" Carl said, the laughter in his voice now gun but the smile stayed present.

Rick shifted a little to get comfortable. "Yeah, son?"

"Thank you. For taking my mind off the nightmares for a little bit." He thanked, still smiling.

Rick smiled and rubbed soothing circles against his son's back on his dirty, blue flannel. He was proud that he finally made his son laugh after such a long time. It made him happy to see the huge smile against his lips and the laughter ringing from his throat.

"You're welcome, son." Rick replied, placing his hand on top of Carl's head. "Go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow."

Carl obeyed and closed his eyes, only to fall in another terrifying nightmare which he would wake up from in just a few hours, attracting different herds of walkers.

Wilmur watched as Beth pulled out a notepaper with a pen held in her hand as she smiled. They had just got done eating their feast and now were about to relax and settle down for the night. The next day, they would leave the funeral home with supplies and continue looking for Carl until they found him.

When they find him, they could possibly go back to the funeral home and live with the person whoever lived there if they were still alive and happened to come back. Then they could finally rest and relax since the prison fell. They could possibly build fences around the area and start to grow crops and find animals to breed. But that seemed like wishful thinking since they were right outside the woods where herds of walkers could come straight out of.

"I'm gonna leave a thank-you not." Beth said, pulling out the notepaper along with a pen.

Daryl picked up one last pig feet out of the jar and stuffed it in his mouth. "Why?"

"For when they come back." Beth replied, writing on the notepad with the black pen. "If they come back. Even if they're not coming back, I still want to say thanks."

Daryl looked at Wilmur who was drinking the last of the diet coke as he watched Beth write the thank-you note. If they could, maybe they could stay and try to live with the person whoever lived there if they were coming back. Everyday, he and Wilmur could go out looking for Carl everyday and stretch out the miles until they found him.

When they do, they can bring him back and they can start resting and go on supply runs once a week. They could make the funeral home a possible place to live at. They could grow their own food and breed animals just like they did at the prison.

"Maybe you don't need to leave that." Daryl said, picking his spoon the jar once filled with pig feet. "Maybe we stick around here for a while. They come back, we'll just make it work. They-they may be nuts, but maybe it'll be all right."

"What about Carl?" Wilmur immediately asked. "I'm not leaving him out there."

"We'll still go out everyday and search for him." Daryl replied. "We'll spread out miles and bring 'em back when we find him. I'm not giving up on him either."

The young teen darted his eyes to the cabinet filled with food and then to the drawers which had sharp knives and machetes in before they looked to the stairs which would lead upstairs to different bedrooms. If they could stay there and go searching for Carl everyday, they'd have some place to come back to. They wouldn't have to sleep in the dangerous woods filled with walkers or in a house in a neighborhood where they had to put chains around the place to signal if someone was there.

Instead, they could go out and look for Carl everyday and come back to the funeral home where they could rest. They didn't have to spend the night outside but they could come back to the funeral home and leave to search for Carl first thing in the morning.

"Okay." Wilmur said. "As long as we keep searching for him then I'm fine."

"We're not gonna stop." Daryl replied. "We're gonna find him and bring him here safe and sound."

Suddenly, a dog bark and whine interrupted their conversation as the cans rattled when he ran against it. Wilmur kept his hand placed over his knife in his belt just in case something else happened to get in and attack him and Beth.

Daryl grumbled and picked up a jar still filled with food that neither of them ate so he could get the dog to come inside for Beth to have. "I'm gonna give that mutt one last chance."

The archer walked out of the kitchen and to the front door to open it and let the dog come in. However, it wasn't the dog by the door. It was a herd of hundreds of walkers that came out of the dangerous woods.

They growled and snarled louder as soon as they saw Daryl's fresh flesh on his skin before he slammed the door shut and pressed his strong body against it too keep them from getting in.

"Wilmur! Beth!" They heard Daryl yell.

The two teens immediately jumped from their seats with Beth grabbing Daryl's crossbow and quickly rushing out of the kitchen and to the front door where walkers were trying to bust in. Beth threw Daryl the crossbow before she and Wilmur yanked their knives out of their belts in case they busted straight through.

"Run!" Daryl yelled before pulling his body off the door to let the walkers spill through. "Run!"

Wilmur and Beth take off running toward another room while Daryl ran back in the kitchen. Wilmur shoved Beth ahead protectively with his knife held tightly in his hand in case any walkers followed them. They could hear the loud snarls from the walkers and the hungry growling as they overran the funeral home.

A walker snuck behind them and jumped on Beth, forcing Wilmur to put down the walker and knock Beth down accidently. He quickly helped her up and shoved her to another room with no walkers overrunning it.

"Wilmur, Beth, pry open a window!" Daryl yelled from another room. "Get your shit!"

"We're not gonna leave you!" Beth yelled, refusing to leave behind one of the two people she had left.

Two walkers managed to bust in the room they were hiding in and jumped on them. Wilmur grabbed the walker's hair and slammed him against a picture frame before knocking it down and smashing his knife into it's skull before kicking a walker off Beth and stabbed it in the head.

"Go out!" Daryl yelled from the other room where walkers were chasing him in. "Go up the road! I'll meet y'all there!"

Wilmur shoved Beth out of the room and sprinted into the room they all slept in, grabbing their bags and draping it over their shoulders before Wilmur broke open a window by shooting it and shoving Beth out of the building.

Some walkers chased them out of the funeral home as they ran toward the road with their bags jiggling against their shoulders while Wilmur shoved Beth ahead protectively. He shot two of the walkers that had gotten in his and Beth's way before smashing two of them against a sharp branch on a short tree.

"Go!" Wilmur yelled, shooting down another walker. "Go! Run!"

Beth obeyed and sprinted ahead with her knife held tightly in her hand as she smashed it walkers head before making a run for the road Daryl told them to run to. Wilmur shot two walkers right over her shoulders before shoving her ahead, shooting down all the other walkers before running out of ammo again.

They quickly rushed onto the road filled with leafs just before a black car with a cross on the back of it ran right over them. Wilmur tried to shove Beth out of the way, but it was too late. The car already smashed Wilmur to the side while the car ran right over Beth's body. His body smashed against the hard concrete road as the car kicked him to the side too hard.

Bruises formed all over his skin and darkened some of the ones that were already there. Blood splattered all over the tires of the car as it shredded his skin and smashed him against the hard road filled with particles of rocks.

All of his bones ached in pain after the tire ran over his arm and both of his legs before dragging his body against the sharp, rock particles on the road as his body flew against it.

"Son of bitch!" Wilmur shrieked in pain as he gripped onto his bruised and bleeding legs. "Beth!"

He quickly turned around, ignoring the screaming pain in his waist as he watched the car drive off with Beth's unconscious body in it. He yanked his gun out of his holster and tried to shoot the tires, but he was out of ammo.

"No!" Wilmur screamed in rage as he desperately tried to chase after the car with the cross at the back of the window. "You stupid idiots! I'll kill you!"

"What the hell happened?!" Daryl's voice echo's in his ears. "Where's Beth?!"

Wilmur threw his arm up toward where the car was driving off with Beth in it. "Those fucking idiots took her!" He yelled.

Daryl immediately took off sprinting after the car driving off with their last innocence in it with Wilmur following from behind, leaving the bags laying in the middle of the road. They didn't care about them anymore. They cared about getting Beth back from the people who took her.

"Beth!" Daryl yelled as he chased the car down with Wilmur just behind him. "Beth!"

Wilmur and Daryl sprinted more faster than they ever did in their entire lives as they chased after the car who had an idiotic person who took Beth away from them. One of the only people they had left. But now someone took her away from them and they weren't sure if they would ever see her again.

The car drove faster as they chased after the car and screamed her name a hundred times. The car was out of sight as soon as it drove around tightly at a curve and drove faster. However, they didn't stop chasing after it. They had to find the car and get Beth back before the person could do anything bad to her.

Their legs ached from sprinting way too fast but they forced themselves to keep going. They weren't going to give up until they found the car and got Beth back. They weren't going to leave behind the most innocent person in the world who believed in hope for a bright future. If they lost her, where would the hope for a bright future be? No one else believed in it except her, and they cherished it.

Wilmur sprinted a foot ahead of Daryl while he legs ached nearly to death from sprinting too fast and getting ran over by a car. Daryl desperately tried to keep up with Wilmur, but he couldn't due to his legs aching too much. They continued to scream Beth's name even though the car was out of sight and too far away from them now. They sprinted even faster when they couldn't hear the loud engine of the car roaring against the leafs on the road.

They ran and screamed for as long as they could and as far as their aching legs would take them. When the sun was reaching into the sky, they were still sprinting as fast as they could with sweat running down their temples and their breaths hitched from not taking a break. Sweat soaked into their shirts and made them cling to their skin as it became damp.

By the time the sun was up and clouds were covering the sky, signaling it was morning, they had collapsed on their knees. Wilmur buried sweating face in his dirty hands as a few tears of frustration dripped on his cheeks. After everything they've done to protect Beth from the brutal world, it was all over nothing.

Beth was gone and they most likely would never see her again even if she stayed alive. How were they suppose to find her if she was driven off far in a car? Where would she be? How could they find her?

She was the innocence of hope for a bright future. She was the only would who gave he and Daryl confidence to keep going no matter how hard things got. Faith for good people was still in her sweet heart while her hope shine for a future they could live in. But now the innocence, the faith, and the hope was all gone because they would never see her again.

Suddenly, six men with fully loaded machine guns and a huge crossbow surround him and Daryl. All six of them smirked as they stared at the sad man and frustrated, young teenage boy who just lost someone special to them.

The leader with grey hair stood in front of them. "Well, look it here." He said, smirking.

Just as the leader reached down to grab their arms, Daryl punched him off and quickly grabbed his crossbow and aimed it toward him while Wilmur yanked his big knife out of his belt and pointed it at the man across from the leader.

All of the men click he safety off their fully loaded machine guns and surround he and Daryl with them as their dirty fingers grew closer and closer to the trigger after they watched their leader collapse to the ground with a bloody nose.

"Damn it, hold up!" The leader yelled.

The man Wilmur had his huge knife pointed at glared. "I'm claiming the vest. I like them wings" He said, talking about Daryl's vest with two angel wings at the back of it which he wore since the outbreak started.

"Hold up." The leader said again only more seriously, bursting into laughter as he felt the blood drip out of his nose and stood up. "A bowman and crazy kid with a huge knife. I respect that."

Wilmur glared at the man he was pointing his knife at who had a huge bow bigger than Daryl's. He hated the smirk tugging at his chapped lips, making the glare in his eyes strengthen. He wasn't sure if the trusted the men. All strangers ever did to them was try to kill them.

"See, a man with a rifle, he could've been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day." The leader who Daryl was facing continued. "But a bowman's is a bowman through and through. A crazy kid with a knife could've been crazy through and through."

Wilmur's glare hardened at the leader's each word escaping the leader's chapped lips. The blood in his veins boiled as he stared upon the men who either had machine guns or bows in their hands and smirked. He clenched his knife tightly and gritted his teeth to keep the growls from rippling out of his chest.

"What you got there, 150-pound draw weight?" The leader asked Daryl. "What about you, crazy kid? Is that a machete? I've been looking for weapons like that. Of course, I want a bit more ammo on the bow and for the machete to be sharper and bigger."

The man Wilmur was pointing his knife at chuckled. "Getting yourselves in some trouble, partners?" He chuckled at Wilmur and Daryl who had barely any weapons and ammo compared to them.

"You start pulling triggers and hacking our necks off, these boys are gonna drop you several times over." The leader continued, smirking. "That want you both want?"

Daryl and Wilmur just continued to give the men their death glares as their fists clenching their weapons tightly with their teeth gritting to keep the growls from escaping their chests. The leader was right. If they started killing them, the men would immediately kill them. If they died, how were they suppose to find Carl?

"Come on, fellas, suicide is stupid." The leader continued. "Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?"

Daryl continued to glare at the leader while Wilmur continued to glare at all of the men who were chuckling and smirking. They aimed their machine guns and bows toward their stomachs so if they tried anything, they could suffer instead of dying peacefully.

"Name's Joe." The leader said.

Daryl lowered his bow, still glaring. "Daryl."

All of the men suddenly looked at Wilmur, smirking and giggling evilly as they pointed their weapons toward him. Wilmur hesitated before lowering his machete as he gave all the men his death glare. He didn't trust them at all. He knew all the men had an evil side in them. A really dark side with more evil than you can imagine.

"Wilmur." He introduced himself with hesitation and anger in his voice.

All of the men nodded, smirking as they lowered their fully loaded weapons while their eyes studied them. Wilmur gave away a deadly glare as he stared upon all of the men. He didn't trust them at all and he probably never will. But he remembered how Beth told him and Daryl to give people a chance so he was going to give it a try.

However, if all six of the men got in his way while searching for his boyfriend, he will kill them. No one was going to stop him from finding Carl whether Joe and his group liked it or not.

I'm coming, Carl. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Group Rocks

Wilmur kept his eyes on the ground filled with dead leafs and broken branches as he ravaged for any tracks left by Carl. He shoved the branches filled with thorns out of the way while pushing through the thick bushes. A few birds hiding in the branches shrieked as soon as they saw him and flew in the distance.

His eyes scanned the trees which had a blood trail on it before finding a clearing. He quickly brushed the leafs out of the way to find a big footprint that wouldn't be Carl's. He sighed and kicked the leafs in frustration before following along the tracks to make sure it wasn't the man who killed one of the men in the so-called group named the Claimers.

A couple or few weeks ago, they ran across them after Beth got taken from and unknown stranger. The leader of the Claimers whose name was Joe and his group was looking for a man who killed one of their men whose name was Lou a little bit more than a month ago.

Wilmur then made a deal after they told him and Daryl their story. He said he and Daryl would help them look for the evil man in exchange for them helping them look for Carl.

"We've been with each other since the outbreak started." Joe told him and Daryl. "It's like we're brothers now if we follow the rules. We're all very close. You have no idea what we've been put through."

"We know." Daryl replied as they followed the Claimers into the woods.

Joe chuckled. "We lost a lot of good people. More than you can imagine. We actually lost one of our men a few weeks ago."

"So did we." Wilmur replied, still glaring at the men due to his distrust for them. "We just lost a woman yesterday. She was very special to us. Now we don't know where she is. Someone took her."

Joe sighed, leaning against a tree with his hand placed over his pistol in his holster. "Damn, I know how much that sucks."

"No, you don't." Wilmur responded rudely. "She wasn't the only one we lost. We lost way too much people a bit more than a few weeks ago I think. They all meant so much to us. Some of them are actually still alive. They're out here somewhere."

"Sounds like to me you and I are on the same side." Joe chuckled. "I'm looking for a man who killed one of ours."

Wilmur narrowed his eyes and shot them a death glare as his index finger tapped against the pistol being held in his holster wrapped around his bruised leg. They weren't the same at all because he was searching for someone he loved and Joe was looking for someone he hated, someone he wanted to kill. Wilmur didn't want to be a part of it. He didn't even know the Claimers well enough to trust them. What if they were lying about the man and actually just wanted to kill him?

"Hey, maybe we can help each other." Joe chuckled.

Daryl shook his head. "No. It doesn't matter. We'll be leaving soon anyway." He said.

Joe chuckled. "Well, why not? I said I can help you."

Daryl and Wilmur continued to glare at Joe and his group while their fists clenched tightly in distrust. Joe and his group could really be tricking them just like the Governor did. Neither of them didn't know if they should trust the Claimers or not. All of them were a bit cranky and had a slight bit of evil in their veins.

If he and Daryl figured out they were evil, they wouldn't tolerate it. They'd either leave or kill them. None of them was going to stand his way of finding his boyfriend.

"Come on. Let us help." Joe chuckled. "If you help us find the man who killed our friend, we'll help you find whoever you're looking for. Deal?"

Wilmur continued to glare at Joe with his teeth gritting to keep growls from escaping his mouth. He didn't trust the men to help him look for his boyfriend. He didn't even want them near Carl because of their secret evilness lurking inside them.

Daryl clenched onto his knife hidden in his belt as he glared at Joe and his five men. His blue eyes darted to Wilmur who was gritting his teeth and his hand which was threatening to yank his pistol out of his holster.

"Come on, fellas. You can't do anything without help nowadays." Joe said, still chuckling.

Wilmur didn't answer but strengthened his death glare as his hand grasped onto the handle of his pistol being held in his holster. It didn't matter if he had help or not. He was going to find Carl with or without help and no one was going to stand in his way or he'd kill or leave them.

He knew Beth told him and Daryl to give people a chance, but they had a glint of evil in their mischievous eyes. Something in his gut told him the men were evil and not to be trusted. All of the men had darkness in their evil hearts as it was expressed in their eyes and mischievous chuckles.

"Listen, if you help us and we help you, we'll let you go off own your own. This doesn't have to be permeant."

Wilmur knew Joe was lying. Once they enter their group, they'll always make a reason so they don't leave just like how the Governor made a bunch of reasons to keep the residents from leaving the community. They couldn't fall for their mischievous trap.

Daryl glanced at Wilmur to see his hand was gently grasping his pistol as his teeth gritted tighter while his glare strengthened upon staring at the men. Daryl placed his hand on Wilmur's shoulder to get his anger and distrust to calm down. Wilmur tensed under his touch and clenched the handle of his gun tighter.

"You'll find whoever you're looking for a lot faster. The faster you find him, the faster you can get outta here and find y'all's shelter."

Daryl grumbled and bent to Wilmur's ear. "He's right. You'll find Carl faster. We can get outta this group and find shelter."

Wilmur closed his eyes and sighed as he pictured finding Carl and reuniting with him while they traveled across the woods together and find another long-lasting shelter where they could live together forever.

If he joined the Claimers, he could find Carl so much faster. He'd be safer with him instead facing the dark and dangerous woods in the monstrous night. They could finally be together again after a long time. They could finally find a place to call home and have a happily ever after. The Claimers could be the only ones who could lead him to Carl.

Wilmur opened his eyes again and sighed deeply. "Fine, but we're leaving as soon as we find the person. Even if we haven't found the man you're looking for yet."

Joe smirked in victory. "Okay, okay. But who you searching for?"

Wilmur glared and gritted his teeth as his fists clenched again. It wasn't his business to know who he was searching for. If he told them about Carl, then he'd be in danger. He wouldn't his boyfriend's life in the hands of a bunch of mischievous strangers.

Joe chuckled. "Fine, we have no deal then."

"My boyfriend." Wilmur answered immediately. "I've been searching for my boyfriend."

Len's face filled up with disgust and turned pale as if he was about to puke. He gripped onto a thick branch so he wouldn't lose his stumbling balance as his eyes filled up with shock and filth of disgust. He glared at Wilmur with his eyes filled with disgust and anger as he gripped onto the thick branch.

"Stupid, gay faggot!" Len yelled, disgust visible in his voice. "I'm not helping a faggot!"

"Len, shut up." Joe snapped.

Wilmur growled as he took a menacing step toward Len, pulling his gun out of his holster and pointing at Len with anger and rage in his eyes at the insult of his relationship with Carl. Tyreese had already insulted their relationship but that was because he was filled with anger then. He felt uncomfortable about any romance surrounding him in a dark corner.

Len, however, just insulted their relationship because they were both the same genders. Yet, it wasn't suppose to matter because love was love no matter who you were in love with. He loved Carl and it disgusted Len which made him angry.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Joe said, placing his hand against Wilmur's chest to stop him from hurting Len. "Let's not fight, boys."

Wilmur shot Joe a death glare. "You might wanna move out of the damn way." He threatened, his eyes filled with rage as his fists clenched against his pistol.

Daryl placed a hand over his shoulder and pulled him away from the violent and threatening tension. He knew how violent Wilmur could get if someone insulted his love for Carl like some people did in the prison in the past.

"Listen, if you're gonna cause trouble then we're not staying." Daryl growled, glaring at Len and Joe.

Joe chuckled. "There will be no violence, right, boys?"

All of the men hesitated before nodding slowly. They could keep themselves from hurting a couple of gay boys but they weren't sure if Len could. He hated gay people even before the outbreak started. Every time he saw one out on the streets, he'd try to beat them up and end up going to court for it.

But that didn't stop him from hurting the gay people. He wanted to teach them what he thought was right but really wasn't. He still lived in the old world but even then love was love no matter what or who it was with. Len didn't understand what love was.

"As long as none of you have a problem with my relationship, then there will be no fights." Wilmur threatened, still giving Len one of his most deadliest glares.

Joe sighed, turning to Len. "Len, don't insult his relationship again, okay? Leave the boy alone."

Len hesitated before nodding and glaring at Wilmur. They didn't need a disgusting person in their group, but he would have to deal with it because he had to do everything Joe said if he claimed they were staying. However, he wasn't going to let Wilmur get away with his gay relationship.

Joe turned back to him and Daryl. "Now, why don't we go ahead and look for some tracks?"

However, he still wasn't sure if he could trust the men. Len especially since he always insulted his relationship with Carl every time he was around him. They got into thousands of arguments and some of them were too violent. They were both lucky Joe was always there when they fought.

Len was too much trouble for both him and Daryl. He refused to look for any tracks left by Carl but instead, insulted him. He wasn't even sure if he could keep to his deal without getting in another argument with Len. Their heat arguments would eventually go too far and get too violent, forcing him and Daryl to leave.

All Wilmur wanted to do was find Carl and leave the group immediately after. They would no longer have to stay with the stupid and cranky group but instead, leave and find a long-lasting shelter where they could live together forever. They wouldn't have to deal with the insults from Len or the annoying lectures from Joe. He, Carl, and Daryl could finally leave and find a safe place to leave together and possibly try to find Beth as well.

Beth was the one who wanted to give people a chance. A chance to survive with them and become good friends while they travel on the dangerous road. She was the only reason why he and Daryl decided to stay with the Claimers and help look for the man the Claimers were looking for while they help look for Carl.

Wilmur sighed and closed his eyes as he remembered Beth. The girl filled with innocence who believed so strongly in a bright future for them to live in. She kept them going no matter how complicated and frustrated things gotten. But now she was taken by an insane person who hit with her a car and took her. Her hope and faith was no longer beside them to keep them satisfied with their survival.

He pushed away the upsetting thoughts before continuing to fight his way through the branches for any tracks left by Carl or the man the Claimers were searching for. He stopped at a little clearing before brushing the leafs out of the way to see to pairs of big footprints along with another pair that were slightly smaller.

He kept his hand draped over the knife in his belt as he followed the footprints. A few bushes which were pushed a bit a little bit more than a few days ago stood in his way. He narrowed his eyes as he pushed through the bushes to see a man's footprints alone with a woman's stood in wet mud. A little bit of thin branches covered in leafs were slightly pushed from someone a few days ago, signaling that they came through there.

Wilmur pushed his way through the bushes and thin branches covered in leafs along with a little bit of stained blood droplets painting it with polka dots. He examined the tiny drops of blood to see the blood belonged to a human. Below the branches with blood on the green leafs laid another big footprint left by a man.

With frustration, he kicked the leafs and dirt before sliding down the bark of a tree and burying his face deep in his bruised knees. How could he find many tracks left by a man but not many left by Carl? A young person was easier to find because they were easier to track, but it was rare to find any track left by Carl.

Carl flashed in his mind as he remembered the tree he had a couple weeks ago about Carl playing in a clear, rushing river with sparkling river rocks surrounding him. He wished their lives could be as happy as they were in their good, beautiful dreams but the Governor took all of those chances away from them.

But once he finds Carl, they can leave the cranky group called the Claimers and live off their own lives somewhere safe from all the dangers and darkness of the monstrous world. They could have a happily ever after in the destroyed world.

Wilmur sniffled and wiped his nose before standing up and following the tracks left by the man again. A walker suddenly came out of the thorn bushes, snarling and growling louder as it's arms reached out for it's prey. Wilmur grunted in frustration before shoving the walker against a tree and shoving his rock knife into it's skull.

Another track was printed against the leafs laying against the soft dirt with a footprint planted against it. He bent down and brushed the leafs out of the way to notice it was a woman's footprint. The man the Claimers were looking for had most likely an innocent woman with him. Would the Claimers kill the woman as well if the man had her with him? She wasn't the one that killed of their men. She wasn't guilty compared to the man who was the one who killed Lou. The Claimers could be evil enough to kill the innocent woman. What if not only she was innocent but the man was as well because the Claimers tried to kill him and he had no choice?

Yet, it didn't matter if the man was innocent or not because the Claimers were willing to help find Carl if they helped them find the man who killed one of their members. The man was nothing to him because he was just bargaining chip to help find Carl.

Wilmur followed the tracks left by the man to a big and wide bush filled with nothing but sharp thorns that blocked his entire path. He sighed in frustration before throwing a sharp branch in it and walking back to Daryl who was tracking the other side of the woods while hunting for food.

They both left the Claimers sleeping early in the morning to look for tracks left by Carl or the man the Claimers were looking for. They probably already woke up and was trying to find them by now to give them another lecture about how they can't travel on their own.

An argument would be led by either Joe or Len just like every other day they argue. It was always either about his relationship with Carl, how they were reckless, or about looking for tracks on their own. He hoped to find Carl soon so they could leave as fast as they could.

Wilmur pushed the branches out of the way as he made his way through the woods to find Daryl. His eyes narrowed at the soil to see tiny rabbit footprints. He smiled and pulled his knife out of his belt as he followed the rabbit tracks. Hopefully it would be a big one instead of being small like all the other rare animals they've hunted.

He pushed a bunch of thin branches out of his sight to see Daryl aiming his crossbow toward the same rabbit he had been tracking. Wilmur sneaked over to Daryl quietly so the rabbit wouldn't run off. He clenched his sharp knife tightly just in case Daryl happened to miss the rabbit and leave him to kill it with his knife.

Just as Daryl shot the arrow, another arrow flew past their shoulders and managed to hit the rabbit before Daryl's arrow could. Wilmur immediately looked behind him and scoffed when he saw that it was Len who killed the rabbit first.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Daryl asked angrily.

Len shrugged and smirked. "Catching me some breakfast."

"That's mine." Daryl argued, walking toward it and pulling his arrow out of the rabbit before wrapping it around his shoulder.

"My arrow's the one that hit first." Len replied, still smirking. "Cottontail belongs to me."

Wilmur scoffed. "Look, smartass. We've been awake before the sun even came up, looking for tracks left by the stupid man you were looking for. I think if we've done that much for you, then the cottontail belongs to us." He pointed at himself with seriousness and anger visible in his eyes.

"Shut up." Len growled, glaring at Wilmur. "You really I'm gonna let some faggot take my food. You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here. Now that rabbit, it's claimed. No way I'm gonna let some bowman share it with a faggot. It's mine!"

Wilmur glared at Len, yanking Len's arrow out of the dead rabbit before throwing it somewhere else and taking menacing step toward him with a deadly glare visible in his eyes. He gritted his teeth as growls threatened to ripple out of his chest while he clenched his knife tightly, his eyes filled with rage.

Len growled and stepped toward him as he gripped his big bow in his greasy hand. They growled and glared in each other's faces while clenching their weapons tightly. Wilmur's knife threatened to slit Len's throat and rip the internals out of his empty stomach. If only he could wrap his fingers tightly around Len's throat and squeeze it to death. He didn't want to deal with the man who insulted and didn't understand what love actually was before the outbreak and during and outbreak.

Anyone who thought any type of love was wrong needed to die. They were suppose to be dead because it never kept them alive and it never will. Not understanding what the world and love really was just a way to a horrible death.

"That rabbit is claimed whether you like it or not, faggot." Len growled in Wilmur's face while Daryl took a few menacing step toward Len. "So if I was both of you, I'd hand it over...and not be an ugly and disgusting faggot about it."

Wilmur clenched his knife tighter as his growls roared through his gritted teeth. "If I was you, I'd back away and not risk my life for it."

Len took one last menacing step toward him before shooting him a death glare right into his eyes with Wilmur doing the same as they growl and clench onto their weapons more tighter than they ever did before. The rage in their eyes grew along with the anger streaming through their vengeful veins filled with boiling blood.

"The rabbit ain't yours." Daryl growled as he stepped in Len's face, clenching his arrow tightly in his hand. "It's ours whether it's a faggot's or not."

"You know, I'll bet this other faggot bitch and the woman y'all've been lookin' for got you both all messed up, hmm? Am I right?" Len growled, causing Wilmur and Daryl shoot him an angry and vengeful glare. "Got y'all walking around here like two dead men who just lost themselves a piece of tail."

Daryl glared at Len as he grabbed his ex-son's arm. "Let's just go." He whispered to him.

Wilmur shot Daryl a glare. "No! I'm not letting this dumbass go."

"They must've been the good'uns." Len chuckled mischievous. "Tell me somethin'. Was the woman one of the little'uns? Cause' they don't last too long out here. Neither does a disgusting little, gay faggot."

Wilmur and Daryl finally yanked their knives out of their belts as they shoot Len one of their most deadliest glares while taking threatening and dangerous steps toward him. Len wasn't allowed to insult the people they loved and especially what love was. If he was going to keep it up, either a bullet would be put between his eyes or a walker would be ripping the fresh flesh from his dirty skin.

Just as Wilmur was about to lunge while Daryl had his back, Joe came out of nowhere and kept them from striking at the laughing Len.

"Easy, fellas, easy." Joe said, stopping Wilmur and Daryl from lunging at Len. "Let's just put our weapons down. See if we can't figure out what's really the problem here, huh?" Joe turned to face Len who was wrapping his bow back around his shoulder. "Did you claim it?"

"Hell, yeah." Len replied as he attached his bow to his shoulder.

Joe turned back to the glaring Wilmur and the angry Daryl. "Well, there y'all go. That critter belongs to Len."

Len smirked and placed his hands over his hips. "So let's have it."

Daryl and Wilmur continue to give Len one of their deadly glares as they clenched onto their knives. They weren't going to give up their rabbit to a man who insulted them. It was theirs an theirs to eat instead of being in the hands of a disgusting and selfish man.

"Looks like y'all may be wanting a explanation." Joe said, noticing the angry yet questionable look in their eyes. "See, goin' in it alone, that ain't an option nowadays. Still, it is survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there. So I laid out some rules of the road to keep things from goin' Darwin every couple hours. Keep our merry band together and stress-free."

Daryl's eyes darted to the ground filled with leafs and dirt while Wilmur continued to glare at the chuckling Len. His fists clenched against his knife as growls threatened to ripple from his chest while his knife grew closer to Len's stomach.

"All you gotta do is claim." Joe continued. "That's how you mark your territory, your prey, your bed at night. One word, claimed."

Daryl glared at Joe as they listened to the stupid rules of his cranky group. Their claiming rules was why they were called the Claimers. If they didn't have those rules, they'd be fighting every minute of every day unlike the group he and Daryl was once in. Their group was always willing to share and help each other out instead of involving themselves in long-lasting arguments.

The Claimers, however, would always fight over food, shelter, and their bed if they didn't claim. They never bothered to share with each other like Wilmur and Daryl's group always did. They just claimed things so they didn't have to share it with each other.

"We ain't claiming nothin'." Daryl growled.

Len took a menacing step toward them as a deadly glare snuck in his brown eyes, looking back at Joe. "We're gonna teach him, right? The rules say we gotta teach him."

Joe ignored Len. "It wouldn't be fair to punish you both for violating a rule y'all never even knew existed."

Len shook his head in frustration while storming back and forth, glaring Wilmur and Daryl as they refused to give up their hunted rabbit.

"There isn't rules anymore." Wilmur snapped, glaring at Len. "There is no faggots. There's never been any."

"Shut up." Len growled in his face. "Faggots don't needa be here. They needa be teached."

"Len." Joe said, holding his hand to Len to stop him from attacking Wilmur. "There is rules. But you're right. There ain't no faggots in the world. So you need to leave the boy alone, Len."

Joe leaned down to grab the rabbit from Daryl's bawled fist, causing Wilmur to try and smack his wrist away but failed. "Easy there, partners." Joe said, chopping the rabbit's body in half, handing one of the halves to Len.

Len growled in frustration before storming off. Wilmur clenched his knife as he watched Len storm back to where they were sleeping before shooting his glare toward Joe.

Joe ignored the glare. "Claimed. That's all you gotta say. Hey, ass end is still an end."

Daryl and Wilmur glare as they watched Joe walk off with the angry Len before they stared at each other, eyes softening. They looked toward the deeper woods where the tracks left by the man were. He clenched his knife tightly as he stared at the tracks left by the man before loosening his grip when his eyes darted to Daryl.

The archer was angry just as much as he was. The Claimers and their rules didn't apply to what their world was now. You either share your stuff or you lose it like how they lost the prison since they couldn't share it with the Governor. All everyone did was fight over stuff in the world because of their selfish greed. That was why Joe made up rules for the Claimers so nobody fought, but that couldn't fix anything because it would destroy everything they had whether they realized it or not.

They already claimed they would help him and Daryl find Carl while they help them find a man who killed one of theirs. However, some of them were already breaking what they claimed to do and help. They couldn't stay any longer if it got any worse. But they said they would help find Carl, and they could find him themselves.

"I don't trust them." Daryl growled. "I'm not even sure if we should stay."

Wilmur sighed, holstering his knife. "I don't trust them either, but they said they would help find Carl. That's gotta be worth something, right?"

Daryl shrugged. "It don't matter. All they do is cause trouble. And Len is a danger to you and Carl. Do you really want him around your own boyfriend?"

"That's why we're leaving as soon as we find him." Wilmur replied. "Believe me, I won't let him near Carl."

Daryl grumbled. "He doesn't have to be around Carl. We can find him ourselves!" He snapped.

Wilmur softened his eyes before sighing. In a way, he knew Daryl was right. All the Claimers and the Claimers rules would cause them both trouble on the road. How long could they stay with him until they find Carl? It was just a matter of time before there would be too much trouble for them to stay and for one of them to get killed.

But the Claimers were the biggest help and clue they've ran across since the prison fell. If Wilmur could receive any help then he needed it. They could actually help him find the one thing that made him so happy. They could be the only people who could actually help him find Carl.

"This might be the solution though." Wilmur said softly. "What if they can really help us? I don't wanna waste that, Daryl."

Daryl softened his eyes at his ex-son's words. His ex-son was so desperate to find his lover that he'd do anything to find him. Even if the Claimers were a danger to him and Wilmur, he still wanted to use them to find Carl. All his ex-son wanted was to find him and be with him. They both needed each other, and if the Claimers were the only thing that could draw them together again then they needed to be with them.

Daryl sighed. "Have ya found any tracks?" He shrugged off the subject.

Wilmur looked toward the tracks. "I found some left by the man they're searching for, but none by Carl."

"That's good." Daryl said with a sigh, noticing the disappointed look in Wilmur's crystal blue eyes. "Hey, we're gonna find him. I promise."

Flashes of Sophia who went missing in the woods two years ago flooded his mind. He remembered how scared she was when two walkers chased her in the woods. After that, she was never seen again, leaving Daryl to put his life at risk while searching for her everyday and almost dying while doing so.

After every single day of getting injured and hurt from desperately searching for her in the dangerous woods, he figured her walker body was hiding in Hershel's bard.

No matter how hard he searched for her, no matter how much effort he put in to find her, she was dead from the beginning of his search. Nothing mattered about how much he looked for her. He fell down a huge rock, got stabbed in the side by his own bow, and got shot for looking for her, but everything and all of his injures wasn't worth it because he was really chasing a ghost in a forest.

But he was determined to find Carl alive and safe. He refused to think he might've ended up like the innocent Sophia who died in the dark woods as soon as Daryl began searching for her.

Wilmur's eyes darted back to Daryl who had seriousness visible in his blue eyes. "We're gonna find him." He repeated after Daryl with confidence in his tone.

Daryl softened his serious expression in his blue eyes before tying the dead, half rabbit around his shoulder and following Joe and Len back to the group. Wilmur sighed and looked toward the tracks left by the man the Claimers were looking for. He placed a weak smile across his lips as tears filled his eyes.

He missed Carl so much. He wanted to wrap his arms around his slender body and pull him in a warm embrace while his soothing whispered in his ears. His sweet lips placed against his before putting their tongues in a competition as their warm palms rubbed across each other's soft skin.

The Claimers were possibly the only ones who could lead Wilmur to his beautiful lover. They could be the only ones who help them have a happily ever after together. Maybe they could lead them to being in each other's arms again. Carl was the only reason why Wilmur was staying with the Claimers at the moment.

Wilmur sighed and draped his hand over his pistol which were filled with bullets since the Claimers gave him some a couple or so weeks ago before following Daryl back to where they slept which was surrounded by wires filled with cans to signal if a walker was nearby.

Tony, Harley, Dan, and Billy were already awake but their eyes were still droopy with black sags under them due to the lack of sleep and their sighs were as groggily as the bats when they wake up from their sleep in the night. Tony and Harley took the cans off the wires while Dan and Billy took down the wires with Wilmur, Daryl, Joe, and Len stood in the back.

Wilmur caught Len giving him a deadly glare as his fists clenched. Wilmur shot the glare right back as he gently grasped in knife being held in his belt without noticing.

"What're ya staring at, gay faggot?" Len questioned angrily.

The young teen scoffed. "Well, I was going to tell you where I found some tracks left by the man you were looking for, but never mind."

All of the Claimers mischievous eyes filled up with concern while Len's death glare strengthened. They both took a dangerous, menacing step toward each other as they growled through their gritted teeth. Joe quickly placed his hand against Wilmur's chest with his other hand pressing against Len's bow to keep him from causing violence.

"Easy, boys." Joe said before turning to Len. "Now, Len. What did I say about leaving the boy alone?"

Len huffed angrily. "He shouldn't even be here. Why did you take them in?"

"They're helping us find the man who killed Lou." Joe mentioned. "That's gotta be worth somethin', right?"

Len clenched his fists against his bow as a roar threatened to break through his yellow teeth while he gave Wilmur one of the most deadliest glares he's had in his entire life. If only he could aim his bow to the gay boy and shoot the arrow straight between his eyes but he'd just killed for it.

"I'm not searching for his stupid boyfriend." Len growled.

Wilmur glared and took a menacing step toward him as he pulled his pistol out of his holster and placed it against his forehead. No one was allowed to insult his boyfriend. Anyone in the past who insulted him in the prison he either killed or severely injured. Nothing would change with Len.

Joe quickly lowered Wilmur's pistol before turning to Len, scoffing. "Do I needa to teach you all the way? What do you not understand about not insulting the boy?"

Len growled as his tight grip on his bow loosened while keeping the same deadly glare in his brown eyes before shooting it to Wilmur. They both gritted their teeth as growls rippled past them. They both had a total urge to strangle or attack each other while they suffocated each other. But that would only lead to Len getting himself killed either by Wilmur or Joe.

Joe gently pushed Wilmur away from Len so his rage wouldn't suddenly lash out. He placed his hands over Wilmur's shoulders before giving him a stern expression to calm him down. Wilmur softened his eyes as his grip on his pistol loosened while staring at Joe. He slowly placed his pistol back in his holster while shooting Len one last glare.

"Now, Wilmur." Joe said. "Where were those tracks you saw?"

Wilmur huffed before motioning them to follow. He kept his hand draped over his pistol in his holster while his other hand held his knife just in case any walkers happened to give them any surprises. A walker snuck up on Len, causing Wilmur to speed his pace in hopes the walker would tear the flesh out of Len's collarbone.

Harley smashed the tip of his fully-loaded machine gun through the walker's skull before kicking it to the ground filled with fragments of branches, chuckling while doing so. Wilmur scoffed and tightened his grip on his knife while moving branches out of the way to get to the tracks left by the man who killed Lou.

Wilmur pointed at the first footprint. "There's the first tracks. It leads all the way up the a bunch of thorn bushes." He pointed ahead.

Joe smirked in victory of finding a track before following after them behind Wilmur and Daryl. A walker herd suddenly pop out from behind a couple of trees, leaving the Claimers chuckling as they used the tip of their machine guns as knives while Wilmur used a machete and Daryl used his crossbow.

All of the Claimers laughed with each stab they put into the walkers soft skulls before yanking it out and shoving their stomachs against the sharp branches of trees. Wilmur and Daryl scoffed at their cranky laughter as they took down the walker herd, leading them to move away from the laughing group due to all the blood splattering around.

Crimson blood suddenly splattered against Wilmur's pale cheeks, coloring them crimson red as his veins boiled with anger. He used the grey flannel he's been wearing for weeks to smear the blood off his bruised cheeks before glaring at the men. They continued to laugh even after they killed the walkers before they joked about them, making Wilmur and Daryl angry. They recalled Beth's words a few weeks or a month ago of what she said about the walkers.

Killing them is not suppose to be fun!

However, the Claimers were enjoying themselves as they killed the walkers in the herd. They thought it was fun and hilarious to kill them, but it wasn't. The walkers were once people but were now dead because of the infection spreading in all of their veins and blood. It was why Beth didn't think it was funny to kill them because they were people before, but not anymore due to the insane world.

"What's so funny?" Wilmur asked rudely, causing the men to furrow their eyebrows at him. "There's nothing funny about killing walkers, so-so what's so funny?"

Joe chuckled and patted Wilmur on the back. "See, the thing about nowadays is that we have time to laugh. We need to laugh whenever we have the time."

Wilmur rolled his eyes at the lecture that wasn't true. Neither one of them had time to laugh at all because they were either running or desperately trying to survive. There was never a time they had to laugh except in the prison, but they weren't there anymore. They were outside where they had to do everything they could to survive while running every second of every day.

There was nothing to laugh about at all. Everything was taken from them since the beginning of the eternal outbreak and the detriment of all of their camps. Every single one of them living in the world was just another survivor.

"Just..." Wilmur trailed off in annoyance before closing his eyes to keep himself from lashing out at Joe. "Follow me."

The Claimers continued to chuckle as they followed Wilmur leading them on the tracks left by the man they were looking for. Their feet rustled against the leafs as it brushed out of their way, exposing some clearings from where the man stepped along with a woman.

Wilmur decided not to mention the woman just in case she wasn't guilty like man from what the Claimers told about him. He knew the man was most likely innocent instead of being guilty from what they said about him, but they were leading him back to his boyfriend. If he helped them find the man who killed Lou, then they could lead him straight on the tracks where Carl was.

A bush which covered almost the entire rest of the forest stopped them from walking any further. The thorns were far too sharp and thick and long to cut through.

"I couldn't go any further." Wilmur said. "I can't tell where they went."

Daryl squinted his eyes when the darted to the ground where a footprint was printed along with three clearing covered by dead leafs. Daryl bent down and brushed the leafs away to see clearings left by the same man which curved around the thorn bushes.

"He curved 'round the bushes." Daryl said, pointing ahead. "It looks like he was rushed."

Wilmur pulled his pistol out of his holster when he noticed they were chased off by a herd filled with walkers. The herd could still be near by if it wasn't the herd they just killed. The Claimers followed behind him and Daryl while their eyes stayed on the tracks left by the man.

Wilmur brushed leafs out of the way while Daryl examined the clearings or footprints. Some of the leafs were crunched as if they were rushing in a desperate hurry. The man was apparently shoving the woman he was with ahead of him, as if he was protecting her.

They narrowed their blue eyes at the tracks before following them and examining the next tracks. Some of man and woman's tracks were mixed with up with the walker herd whose tracks sped up as well when they spotted them. Some stained blood was printed against the rotten bark of the trees.

Daryl brushed his rough fingers against while Wilmur observed the stained blood staining the tree. The Claimers stood behind them, examining some tracks themselves while Daryl and Wilmur observed the light red blood stained against the bark of the tree along with a little bit of blood droplets.

The Claimers hoped it wasn't the man's blood because they wanted to hurt him themselves. They wanted to make him suffer more than they made anyone suffer in their entire lives. No one was allowed to hurt the man except them. If anyone got to the man before they got to him, they'd brutally murder all of them in a slow and painful way.

"It looks like the blood belonged to a walker." Daryl said. "A herd must've came through, chase 'em away."

Wilmur stood up straight as his eyes scanned the ground filled with walker tracks and a few tracks left by the man and woman who were running away from the herd. "It looks like it leads to the train tracks up ahead." He said.

"I don't think we should go on the train tracks." Dan said. "There'd be nothing to see up there."

Wilmur shrugged. "Maybe not for you, but Daryl and I can still track. I mean, it'd be harder, but it seems like to me they sleep in the woods at night and travel on the tracks during the day."

"It's the best thing we got." Daryl said. "They'll just be goin' along the tracks. There's really nowhere else to go."

Joe sighed, stepping toward Dan and placing his hand over his shoulder. "They're right. We can catch up to them a lot faster than you think."

Dan smirked before nodding and chuckling, walking ahead of Wilmur and Daryl as they followed the tracks left in the dirt by the man and woman. A few walkers left from the herd who chased the man and woman down came out from hiding behind a tree, growling as their arms reached out for their prey once they saw the fresh flesh sitting upon their skin.

The Claimers laughed before shoving the end of their sharp machine guns up their chin and into their soft skulls before stabbing it in their stomachs and yanking it up to pour the flesh they've eaten out.

Wilmur and Daryl simply ignored the stylish ways the Claimers were killing the walkers and continued to follow the tracks left by the man the Claimers were searching for, chopping branches out of the way with their knives and machetes. Blood droplets were printed against the light brown branches with the green leafs hovering over it.

Another walker appeared as soon as Wilmur chopped through the next branch before it jumped on him, it's chomping teeth growing closer and closer to his neck. Daryl quickly shot his arrow through the back of it's skull, killing it.

Suddenly, a herd shoved it's way through the branches, jumping on Daryl and Wilmur as soon as they saw the flesh laying against their skin. Daryl quickly shoved three of the walkers against one of the most sharpest branches against one of the trees. Wilmur slashed some of the walkers heads off, smashing his foot into their soft skulls after their heads collapse to the ground.

More walkers suddenly poured through the thin branches before jumping on them, causing them both to struggle to shove the walkers off. Wilmur roared as he desperately tried to shove all four of the walkers off him. He tried to kick them in the knees as hard as he could, but the walkers refused to budge.

Gunfire suddenly ringed in their ears as the bullets broke through the walkers soft skulls and landed in their brain, killing them. They laughed mischievously as they sent their bullets straight through the walkers brains while Len shot them with his bow.

Unbeknownst, Len was pointing his bow straight at the back of Wilmur's head who was killing walkers with his black machete. Len smirked just as he was about to shoot the arrow through Wilmur's head. However, a walker jumped on him and knocked his aim over, causing him to shoot the arrow in Wilmur's leg instead of his head.

Wilmur yelped in pain before collapsing to the ground, leaving Daryl to cover for him. Daryl shot walkers who were anywhere close to Wilmur, leaving Wilmur a perfect target for Len. He smirked and aimed his bow toward Wilmur's head again. However, Wilmur saw exactly what he was doing.

The young teen quickly rolled out of the way as soon as he shot the arrow, scrambling for his black machete before yanking the arrow out of his leg, screeching in pain while doing so. Daryl was quick to notice what Len was doing, causing him to spun around and shoot an arrow toward Len while Wilmur charged toward him.

Len was quick to yank Wilmur in a tight grip, pulling his knife out of his belt before preparing to stab it through Wilmur's back. Daryl quickly rushed to Len and punched him in the face with his hard crossbow before shoving a walker on top of him. Len shrieked before kicking the walker in the knee joints and shoving it on Daryl and Wilmur.

Len panicked as he scrambled for his bow he dropped while Wilmur chopped the walker's head off with his machete, leaving Daryl to put an arrow between it's eyes. Len aimed his bow toward Wilmur's chest before shooting the arrow, but Wilmur was quick to dodge it. Wilmur pulled his sharp knife out of his belt and threw it straight through Len's shoulder, causing him to shriek in pain while his grip on his bow went away, dropping it to the ground.

Wilmur rushed to Len's bow with Daryl covering his back from the walker herd. Wilmur yanked Len's bow off the ground and shot two arrows through his palm and knee, causing Len to collapse to the ground against a sharp branch with thorns on it.

Just as Wilmur was about to shoot an arrow through Len's skull, Joe quickly yanked Len's bow out of his fists and shoved him back to keep him from injuring Len any more. Billy and Tony stood in front of Daryl and Wilmur to keep them from attacking Len again while Harley stood behind them.

"What the hell was goin' on?" Joe questioned, a displeased look expressed in his eyes. "We were suppose to be fighting off that herd but y'all were-y'all were fighting!"

"Ask Len." Wilmur growled. "He's one who shot me in leg and tried to kill me."

"But you did, too." Joe replied. "You shot him in the knee, hand, and shoulder."

Wilmur scoffed, crossing his arms. "That's because he was trying to kill me. I wasn't just gonna sit there and let him!"

Joe sighed, making his way over to Len and pulling the arrows and knife out of his palm, knee, and shoulder before throwing Wilmur's knife back to him. Joe pulled Len back on his stumbling feet, wrapping his arm around him to help hold himself up.

"Now, fellas. We don't needa fight." Joe said, beginning another lecture. "The only way we can survive is together, right? That means we gotta work together. If we fight, we can't survive, right Len? If you keep fighting with Wilmur, you're goin' to get yourself and all of us killed. I know you don't like him or Daryl, but if we're gonna all survive, then we have to do it together."

Len scoffed. "They're not even staying long." He growled, placing his hands over his hips.

"Yeah, I know. But they're helping us find that man." Joe replied. "We've never came this close to finding him before, but now we have because Daryl and Wilmur brought us to him. Aren't ya thankful for that?"

Len glared as he grumbled and groaned in pain while he gripped onto his injured knee before slowly giving his head a small nod. He shot Wilmur and Daryl a death glare. He somehow needed to either kill them or kick them out of their group. He didn't care if they were helping them find the man who killed Lou or not. He didn't want them with their group.

"Good." Joe softened his displeased expression. "Now, let's go on the tracks. We can find some building and rest there for today so Len can heal."

All of the Claimers nodded, smirking and chuckling as they followed Wilmur and Daryl to the long train tracks.

"I have to talk all of you into doing something. Something I know we need to do." The man said, talking to his group. "And I don't know how to talk about it."

"What do you want us to do?" Asked the younger sister of his girlfriend.

"I want you to survive." The man replied. "We're not gonna last here. The biters, there'll be a herd of them. They'll fill the pits, they'll crawl over one another. There'll be enough to tear right through our camp. Or it'll be people."

Flashes of his son falling in love with the son of a man who he had hatred for. He could remember how his son left him to be with the group who went against him just so he could be with his boyfriend. He didn't matter anything to his son at all. He chose a terrible group over being with his own father.

It didn't matter if he beat his own son for falling in love with someone he hated or not. What mattered was he chose someone who disgusted him over being with someone a part of his family.

By the time he gets to the camp where his son was living at, he'll take over the prison or destroy it if they don't give it to him. Then he'll make the camp give his son back to him but if they don't listen, he'll kill the two hostages he had, kill his son, and kill the boy his son loved but he'll keep the father of the son alive to make him suffer.

But if they did give his son back to him, he'll beat him and make him suffocate. Then he'll go after the boy his son loved and bring him back to the prison. Then he 'll beat and rape the boy his son loved right in front of his son before the boy his son loved died. He'll keep his son alive so he could suffer from the loss of his boyfriend forever.

Either way, the boy his son loved was going to die.

"There's nothing between us and the rest of the world." The man continued. "Nothing between us and them. We stay here, we'll die. The people who uh-destroyed the camp I was in with Martinez...they live in a prison. It's north off Highway 34. Now, my son is there but don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt him." The man lied. "I may threaten to kill him but that's just to scare the prison. I'm going to threaten to kill his boyfriend and I may have to, but you got to remember he's bad. He'll kill all of us. So don't feel bad for my son because I'm doing this to protect us."

The people in the man's group softened their eyes with worry slipping into some of them. Some of them weren't sure if they should kill someone somebody else truly loved. It would hurt the man's son more than anyone or anything hurt him in the world. However, the boy who the son of their leader truly loved was bad and was going to kill them, then they knew they had know choice.

"The prison has walls..." The man continued. "Fences, plots of land for farming. We could live there. If we're willing to take it from 'em. I have a plan to do it without anyone getting hurt. Now, I'm going to also get my son back but some people might get hurt for that if they don't listen. But that doesn't matter 'cause when they figure out I captured two of them, they'll listen."

The younger sister of the man's girlfriend cringed. "What?"

She wasn't comfortable with what they were about to do. She didn't want to attack or hurt anybody. All the people were in the prison was survivors who were trying to survive in a world filled with the dead walking around. Their leader did say they were bad and would kill them, but the people were just survivors.

"I was scouting the prison and our path crossed, so I took 'em." The man replied.

"You took them?" The younger sister of the girlfriend questioned, shock filling her eyes.

"They're the key." The man replied. "They're gonna help us take that prison and my son without firing a shot. They may refuse to give my son back to me and that could be the only thing they get hurt for. But...he's my child. I want him back. Now, I can have him back and we could have the prison. We don't have to kill anyone. But...we need to be prepared to."

The group stood there with nervousness and strength filling their eyes upon looking at their leader. If they could get their hands on the prison, they could actually live there and have their leader get his son back. They didn't have to kill or hurt anyone if they listened. They could all have their happy ending.

"The people in this prison, not all of them are bad." The man continued. "But most of them are thieves, murderers. Now why should people like that have peace of mind when we're burying our own just about every day? These people, including my son...they mutilated me...burned my camp...killed my daughter and brainwashed my son. Now you saw me-I tried. I tried to die. Cause' I didn't wanna accept that you couldn't live in this world without getting blood on your hands. I found you people and I don't want to die. I don't want you to die. Now we need to move-now. They're gonna realize their people are gone and they're gonna start getting ready for whatever's next. We need to surprise them. Scare them. And we will win."

The younger sister of the man's girlfriend looked at the group who was filled with confidence. If they could attack a bunch of people who attacked their leader in the past, then she could as well. She wanted to protect her camp, her girlfriend, her sister, and her niece. She refused to lose anyone else.

She sighed and stepped forward. "I'm in."

Suddenly, the entire group stepped up with confidence and strength in their veins and hearts. They weren't going to let a bad group live their happily ever after while their group is off having bad luck every day.

"Pack up and get ready." The man said. "We'll go over the plan in half an hour."

Rick held his crying son while they ran from the herd Carl attracted when he woke up from another terrifying night terror. Michonne was taking the lead, brutally smashing each walker out of the way with her sword if it blocked their path. Every moment, more and more walkers piled up in the herd due to the loud cries of Carl and their rustled footsteps crunching against the leafs.

Neither of them could hardly see due to it being dark and new moon with a cloudy sky, blocking all of the bright stars. All they could do was listen and feel for things as they ran through the forest filled with thin branches and sharp thorns.

More walkers poured out of the branches, snarling and growling louder before pacing faster with their sloppy steps against the crunchy leafs as they reached out for the fresh flesh lying against their dirty and bloody skin.

Michonne slashed some of the walkers heads in half while she chopped some of their heads off. Blood splattered against her cloths as they pushed through the deep forest filled with branches. They needed to somehow and somewhere without running at least once. All of them were about to pass out from the lack of sleep and rest and food.

If they didn't find a decent place to rest sooner or later, one of them was going to pass out and possibly slip into a coma. Rick had fell into a coma after the fall of the prison from the lack of rest after getting injured. One of them can fall into a coma just as easily if they don't find someplace to rest until they get to Terminus.

Walkers poured out of another pack of trees filled with thick branches like a rushing river creating walkers non-stop. Michonne quickly shoved Rick the other way as she slashed off each of the walkers heads while blood splattered against the dead leafs on the ground. Rick rushed ahead with his arm wrapped around his son's waist as they sprinted throughout the dark woods.

Crimson blood created a bright red path against the darkness, creating some light for them to follow as it shined against the brown bark of the trees. Rick quickly handed Carl to Michonne as he took lead, killing every walker who got in their path. Blood splattered against his brown coat, staining it with bright red blood with each stab in the walkers soft skulls.

Tears streamed down Carl's dirty cheeks as flashes of his nightmare flooded inside his mind. Blood suddenly appeared all over the leafs and trees as it colored everything crimson red. He could hear the Governor's laughing echoing in his ears as thick smoke filled his lungs while people screamed as they ran from the bullets flying through the air with walkers chasing them down. The screams all sounded very familiar as each one echo's in his ears.

Judith, Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Wilmur...

More screams echo's in his ears as they cried out in fear and pain. The screams screeched in his ringing ears as it grew louder and louder every single second. He could hear them wail through their painful tears and screams.

Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Hershel...

Everyone he ever loved were screaming and wailing as hot tears streamed down their cheeks while crimson blood splattered against the skin on their bodies. Their screeching voices grew louder and louder while their cries grew more heartbreaking with every sob escaping their lips.

Suddenly, all of them start screaming his name through their heart wrenching sobs. They begged for something he couldn't understand clearly as they screamed and shrieked his name in his ears.

Everything suddenly turned clearer as he realized the black, thick smoke disappeared into thin air while the crimson blood coloring the ground shrunk to a path of walkers blood. The ringing screams and cries turned into yells while Rick and Michonne begged for him to snap out of the nightmare he was no longer in.

His vision cleared as the nightmare smeared out of his tearful eyes filled with shock. His eyes filled with tears darted to the dark, cloudy sky which had no moon. Slowly, he turned his eyes to stare at Rick and Michonne who staring at him with extreme worry and stress with a little bit of tears in Michonne's brown eyes.

Carl's breath trembled before sniffling, wiping his nose and pulling away from Michonne and his father's embrace and burying his face deep in his knees, letting his tears make tiny damp spots in his jeans while Michonne rubbed reassuring circles on his back.

His entire body shook as he reminisced the horrifying nightmare. The Governor had killed everybody he loved slowly and painfully, laughing while doing so as the blood painted the grass and prison concrete crimson. However, he kept Wilmur alive and brainwashed his love for him and replaced it with hatred.

They both then started laughing evilly as they began killing everyone in the prison together slowly and painfully. At the end of his horrifying nightmare, Wilmur and the Governor began brutally beating him while everyone he loved screamed for him, even another Wilmur who actually loved and cared for him.

But now he was sitting in the middle of train tracks, sobbing softly in his knees as tears slowly dripped down his cheeks while they slowly drained from his light blue eyes. Finally, he pulled his head out of his wet knees before darting his eyes to his father who was looking at him with sympathy and stress before darting his eyes to Michonne whose eyes were filled with sympathy and worry.

"Why are you both looking at me like that?" Carl asked rudely. He was tired of all the sympathy.

Michonne sighed, running her fingers through Carl's soft hair. "We're just worried about you. If you saw the way you just acted in the woods, you would understand.

Carl sniffled, wiping his eyes to wash away the tears before wiping his nose. "I'm-I'm sorry. I'm acting like a weakling."

"No, you're not." Michonne replied. "Everyone has nightmares. Especially lately."

"At least you don't attract a herd." Carl retorted. "I just...want to get to Terminus and get this over with."

Michonne sighed before rubbing Carl's back softly. "We'll get there. I promise. But can you at least tell me or your father what happens in your nightmares."

Carl hesitated before slowly giving his head a shake. The terrifying nightmare would flash before his tearful eyes again if he said one word about what happened in the dreams. His trembling presence would disappear into the world filled with his night terrors where there was nothing but screaming and wailing along with crimson blood and the Governor's evil laugh.

Even back in the prison he couldn't tell Wilmur about what happened in his night terrors. No one was allowed to figure out what they were horrifyingly about. It'd just shock and shake everyone if they figured out any clue what the scary and horrific dreams.

"Carl, I'm your father. Let me help at least once." Rick said, voice filled with sympathy.

The young teen looked his father in the sympathy eyes before slowly giving his head another small shake. He wasn't sure if any source of comfort would make him feel better, but talking about his nightmares certainly wouldn't make anything any better.

Michonne gently rubbed Carl's shoulder with her thumb as she closed her eyes and sighed. She was truly worried for the teen just like a mother would be. Carl was like her own son, and she was worried for him. She wasn't going to let Carl go until she figured out what his night terrors were about.

Tomorrow, she would take Carl on a small run just between him and her to figure out what his horrific nightmares were about. They would make up a little game which could cause him to finally open up about his nightmares like how he opened up about Wilmur a bit more than a few weeks or a month ago.

"Don't touch me." The woman with dark skin hissed as the man placed bandage over the wound on her head, causing her to shove him off. "Get off me."

The samurai woman glared at the man with her hands tied together while she watched him bring the old man to sit down beside her. The old man kept the same calm expression in his blue eyes while the samurai shot a death glare toward the man of the leader of his new camp. She clenched her fists tightly as growls threatened to ripple from her chest as she stare upon the man she fought with six or seven months ago.

The man pulled out a small bag of food, handing it to the two hostages. "You should eat. It's gonna be a long day. Nobody's gonna hurt you." He said, fixing the knife in his belt before siting down.

"I don't believe that." The old man replied, worry slowly sneaking in his blue eyes.

"Well, I don't care." The man replied rudely, putting the tissue with the samurai's blood on it from when he hit her in a zip lock bag.

The old man sighed, worry still visible in his eyes as he stared at the surprisingly calm man. "Just tell us what this is. Please."

"It isn't personal." The man replied, pulling small supplies out of the cabinets in the RV.

"...Then what is it?" The old man asked.

The man ignored the old man. "Michonne, I want you to know...Penny, my daughter, she was dead. I know that now. Now, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. I need the prison, that's it. There are people I need to keep alive. You two are gonna help me take it. No one needs to die."

Michonne growled at the man. "I'm gonna kill you."

The man scoffed quietly. "No, you won't."

Michonne ignored the statement as she shot the man one of the most deadliest glares she's had in her entire life. "I'm gonna take my-" The old man interrupted Michonne.

"Stop it." The old man interrupted, turning to the man. "You want the prison?"

"Yeah." The man replied. "I want my son back, too. I'm gonna take them as peacefully as I can."

The old man stared worriedly. They couldn't give him the prison or his son. If they were to leave the prison, anything could happen to them while they're out on the road. They couldn't give back the man's son either because he was living happily with the boy he loved more than anything and anyone in the world.

The boy the man's son loved would refuse to give up the man's son. He would never let go of him even if it meant getting himself severely injured or painfully killed.

"Governor-" The old man tried it say but is interrupted.

"Don't call me that." The Governor interrupted, placing his supplies in his bag.

The old man darted his eyes to the RV floor as he gently bawled his tied up fists together. "Your people, our people, we can find a way to live together."

The old man knew the Governor's son wouldn't agree with it due to his protectiveness over his lover. The Governor's son wouldn't dare to take his eyes off his boyfriend. He'd never leave him alone or close his eyes at night just like everyone else in the prison wouldn't be able to sleep because the Governor would be under the same roof.

But they had no choice because they couldn't give up the prison or the Governor's son. They couldn't be forced on the road again without any shelter and leaving behind one of the precious members from their group.

"These people you need to keep alive, do you love them?" The old man asked.

All the Governor ever did was use people so he could bend things to his will. What if he was only using the people in his new group to get revenge on the man he went against six or seven months ago? What if he didn't care of his people at all?

The Governor sighed. "You're a good man, Hershel. A better man than Rick."

"Everything you've said, the way you've said it, you've changed." Hershel said. "So has Rick. Wilmur has, too. Maybe you two can talk again."

"The three of us will never be able to live together." The Governor replied. "Michonne and I, will never be able to live together."

Hershel leaned back against the wall with disbelief and worry in his eyes. "We'll find a way-"

"I found a way!" The Governor snapped. "I'm trying hard. There's all kinds of ways I could do this. This way, you get to live and I get to be..."

The Governor trailed off before making his way over to the RV door, but Hershel stopped him from walking out.

"You say you want to take this prison as peacefully as possible." Hershel said. "That means you'd be willing to hurt people to get it. My daughters would be there. That's who you'd be hurting. If you understand what it's like to have a daughter, then how can you threaten to kill someone else's?"

The Governor glared at Hershel. "Because they aren't mine."

Wilmur fell to the back of the group as his eyes scanned the train tracks filled with nothing but mulch and pieces of rocks covered in dirt. On the side of the tracks laid some trash who someone littered. He quickly rushed to the tracks as his hands scavenged for any clues left by Carl or the man the Claimers had been searching for.

Daryl had followed him to the trash and ravaged through the trash as well with his rough fingers desperately trying to search for any clue they could find. Their hands met the same coke can before pulling it out of the nasty litter together, only to see walker blood printed against it.

They grumbled in frustration before throwing the coke can down and stepping on the train tracks again. Wilmur kept his hand draped over his pistol in his holster as he followed behind the group, keeping his eyes on the tracks in case he came across a clue. A little bit of blood droplets left by walkers were sprinted against the rocks filled with dirt and mulch. Some trash laid against the tracks, but none of them were clues.

A small, destroyed house made out of brick laid against the side of the tracks on top of a small hill. The windows were covered with grime as small bugs crawled against it, leaving tiny footprints. Walker blood was printed against the concrete steps while flies flew around the rotten body parts hovering over the porch filled with grime.

Some of the bricks had fallen apart, creating all kinds of small piles against the ground and porch. The what used to be black roof was now white due to the dust while it laid flat on the ground. Some of the glass windows were shattered along with the broken chimney. The building must have fallen apart before the apocalypse.

Despite the amount of eaten bodies laying on the grimy porch and some arms sticking out of the broken windows with sharp glass splitting their skin, it was utterly silent. As if someone had went through there not so long ago and killed lot's of walkers before leaving them to rot.

"I'm gonna check out that house." Wilmur said, pulling a knife out of his belt.

Joe darted his eyes to the almost fallen apart house before noticing all the dead bodies hovering over it while the flies flew in the dust to get to the rotten skin of the dead body and chuckled. "I think there'll be nothin' in there."

"Do you want to find that man or not?" Wilmur retorted rudely. "It looks like someone's been through there."

"If ya die in there, it's not our fault, faggot." Len smirked, chuckling mischievously.

Daryl grumbled and pulled his cross bow off his shoulder before placing an arrow in it. "I'll make sure he don't die." He growled in frustration.

"It's what we said about Lou before he got strangled in the bathroom." Len growled.

"Len." Joe warned him to stop speaking, holding his hand up toward him before lowering it when he shut his mouth. "Let the fellas check out the house. They might be right."

Len growled before shooting Wilmur and Daryl a deadly glare while clenching his bow tightly. Daryl placed his hand over the sharp knife in his knife holster as he began to unclip it, his fingers threatening to pull it out and throw it straight in Len's heart. Wilmur gritted his teeth to stop the growls threatening to ripple through his teeth while he clenched his knife too tightly that it caused his fingers to turn purple.

Joe placed his hand against Len's shoulder to calm his mischievous anger. Len scoffed and pulled away from Joe's grip before standing beside Billy to keep himself from lunging at the archer and young teen.

Joe placed his hand against Dan's shoulder. "Dan's gonna go in there with y'all. I'm gonna have a small talk with Len." He said, eyeing Len whose arms were crossed.

Wilmur rolled his eyes before scoffing while watching Dan take the lead. Wilmur pulled his pistol out of his holster before putting his sharp knife back in his belt and tucking his grey flannel behind it. The three of them walk on the porch filled with dead bodies as the grime covered over their mushy skin.

Daryl and Wilmur gag from the disgusting smell before squeezing their nose to block the smell from filling their nostrils with Wilmur placing his hand over his stomach as he felt himself getting sick. Dan just laughed too hard at the dead bodies before placing his hand against the dusty doorknob and swung it open.

Wilmur gagged as he removed his hand away from his nose, the rotten smell filling his nostrils as the dust flew against his face when the door swung open. Daryl and Wilmur swat the dust and flies away with their dirty hands as their held their weapons up.

The building was covered in nothing but dust with flies hovering over it while a few dead bodies laid on the ground. Some were eaten and some had an empty pistol held in their hand from when they killed themselves. The wooden, rocking chairs had rotten and turned white from too much dust as crimson blood covered it.

The fireplace had fallen apart just like the chimney had as the scent of coal mixed with the disgusting, rotten scent. The kitchen had nothing but too much grime with fallen apart, old tables and chairs with the oven breaking apart. One of the bedrooms had completely collapsed due to the roof falling down along with bricks that had poured in it. The other last bedroom was covered in dust with broken picture frames as the pictures ripped apart due to it being so old. The bathroom had completely fallen apart from the roof, bricks, and from being too old.

Some footprints was left against the dust along with some clearings. The footprints weren't as big as the man the Claimers were searching for. Instead, they were the size of a young teen's. The size of Carl's foot.

"Daryl!" Wilmur called as he examined the footprints and clearings left by Carl.

The archer made his way from one of the small bedrooms to the kitchen filled with thick dusts and horse-flies. Daryl observed the tracks before examining the walker bodies who were killed most likely just a few hours ago.

"Whoever was in here came a few hours ago." Daryl said, brushing his fingers now covered with yellow dust against the tracks.

"Carl." Wilmur corrected, a tiny smile tugging against his chapped lips. "Carl came in here a few hours ago. A few hours! Do you know how close we are?"

"That doesn't mean we're close." Daryl replied. "They could be anywhere by now."

Wilmur grumbled in annoyance. "At least have a little bit of faith."

Beth's voice suddenly echo's in their minds as they remember her saying the same exact thing about a month ago. They both remembered how frustrated she was when Daryl refused to believe anyone was alive. She refused to give up on finding survivors from when the prison fell even though it was hopeless.

Wouldn't kill you to have a little bit of faith.

She ran everyday just to look for other survivors or help Wilmur look for Carl despite the hopelessness and darkness following them as they sprinted through the dangerous woods every single day.

In a way, she was right. They needed their faith of survival to survive and hope they get to live the very next day. If they lost all faith and hope for themselves, then they'll die very quickly.

Dan stood behind them, observing the tracks left by Wilmur's boyfriend they were helping search for. A few chuckles escaped his lips as he bent down next to them and brushed his greasy fingers against the footprints left in the white dust.

"I found a few other tracks in that other bedroom." Dan chuckled. "They were this size, but there was a woman's, too."

Wilmur immediately moved to the other room to see footprints left by Carl and another woman. He wasn't alone and he wasn't with Rick either, but he was with someone. Wilmur remembered when he, Beth, and Daryl came across bushes filled with raspberries and to the side was a tree with three clearings left by Carl, Rick, and another woman.

Someone else from the prison had made it out with Rick and Carl, but who? Carol was kicked out of the group, he saw Maggie on the bus which evacuated people out of the prison, Beth made it out them, Sasha's foot was smaller than the woman's footprint. The only other woman he knew was Michonne.

"It must've been with Michonne." Daryl said, squinting his eyes at Michonne's footprints in the dust.

Dan chuckled, patting Daryl on the back with his greasy fingers. "Let's get outta here."

Wilmur holstered his pistol before following Dan and Daryl out of the fallen apart building. Joe, Billy, Tony, and Harley were waiting patiently while Len was storming around angrily. Wilmur scoffed and draped his hand over his black machete held in his belt to get prepared for any insult to come out of Len's mouth.

Len growled as soon as he saw the death glare visible in Wilmur's crystal blue eyes. They took menacing steps toward each other as Len pulled his knife out of his belt while Wilmur pulled out his machete. Joe quickly rushed between the two boys, placing his hands on both of their shoulders and pushing them away.

Joe gave Len one of his strict glares before shaking his head to Wilmur. "What did I say about not fighting, hmm?"

Len shoved Joe's hand away and gritted his teeth to prevent any more growls from escaping before following the train tracks with his fists clenching tightly. Wilmur scoffed before following the Claimers with his hand draped over his pistol held in his holster wrapped around his leg. His eyes stayed on the train tracks in case he came across another sign of Carl.

Nothing but trash covered the side of the tracks. Mulch and dirty rocks hovered in between the track tracks, leaving no track or clue left by Carl or Michonne. A dead body with nothing but human bones laid in the middle of the track as dark green bacteria grew on it while flies gathered around it. The Claimers simply chuckled before stepping over it while Wilmur and Daryl furrowed their eyebrows at the men.

There was nothing funny about a person's bones laying dead in the middle of nowhere. It was suppose to remind them what happened to the world and what the walkers did to it. However, the Claimers thought it was lucky from what happened to the world since they laughed at every dead body they ran across.

Wilmur's eyes darted to half of a dead rabbit they catched in the early morning held in Daryl's hand. Ever since they left the funeral home, they've been starving nearly to death. It was incredibly rare for them to hunt an animal the past couple of weeks. They either ran too fast or were too high in the trees.

They were lucky they found a rabbit to eat. Although half of it was chopped off because of the Claimers rules, they were still lucky to have it. He and Daryl had to share which would make the rabbit even smaller, but it was better than having nothing in their stomachs at all. After they find Carl, everything would get better.

He, Carl, and Daryl could finally leave the Claimers and find somewhere they could somehow live forever at like how they lived in the prison. However, they'd be stronger in case anyone attacked them like how the Governor attacked them. They could start all over and have another happy ending like they did when the war with the Governor was over.

They could grow their own crops again and go on runs to look for supplies which would make their camp better like they did at the prison after the violent war was over. He and Carl can have special, quality time together again.

"Did you find any tracks from the man were searching for?" Joe asked, causing Wilmur to snap out of his deep, wishful thoughts.

Wilmur shook his head. "No, but I did find some from my boyfriend."

Joe chuckled, patting him on the back. "Sounds like our enemy and your boyfriend is on the same track."

Wilmur shrugged, keeping his hand draped over his pistol in his holster. He wasn't too worried about an evil man being on the same tracks as Carl was. He told Rick to protect him and he knew he will just like Michonne would. They were all strong enough to defend themselves against the disgusting and terrifying, bad people.

"Aren't ya worried about him?" Joe asked. "I mean-I mean, cause' that-that man is evil. He'll kill your boyfriend if he killed one of our boys."

"My boyfriend is not weak." Wilmur replied. "He's stronger than I am. Besides, he has people that I know that'll protect him. Nothing will happen to him."

Joe chuckled. "Now, L-Lou was strong, too. But he got killed anyway."

"My boyfriend won't die." Wilmur replied with frustration in his tone, turning around stepping in front of Joe to face him. "He's too stubborn to die. And I won't let him die."

Joe smirked as a small chuckle escaped his throat before patting Wilmur on the shoulder. "Now, I'm pretty sure Lou was more stubborn than your boyfriend. I don't mean to sound rude but it's-it's true. But that man...he took away that stubbornness from him. What if he does the same thing to your-to your boyfriend?"

Wilmur glared, frustration sneaking in his crystal blue eyes while his teeth gritted. "I won't let that man hurt my boyfriend. Whether I'm around that man or not, I'll make sure he doesn't lay a finger on him."

Dan turned around and smirked as joyful shock was expressed in his eyes. "Jeez, you're only thirteen and you're that protective over your boyfriend? Shouldn't ya be worried about other stuff?"

"For your information, I'm fifteen, idiot." Wilmur growled. "And it doesn't matter how old I am. I love him. He's the only reason why I'm still alive today."

"It's true." Daryl jumped in the argument. "His boyfriend means everything to him. If they never met, Wilmur would've died."

Wilmur softened his eyes and nodded, fighting back the tears from filling his eyes. "I need him in my life. I can't survive without him."

Joe nodded, understanding filling his eyes. "And we'll find 'em. Now, let's keep goin' so we can find a place for Len to rest."

Wilmur and Daryl shot Len a death glare before following the tracks again with their hands draped over their weapons, their eyes scanning the tracks for any more clues left by Carl or the man who killed Lou.

Len's eyes expressed disgust and hatred as his fists clenched and his yellow teeth gritted to keep the harsh sentences from escaping past them while watching Daryl and Wilmur walk alongside Joe. He hated Wilmur and Daryl more than he ever hated anyone in the entire world before. He hated gay people and he hated Daryl for breaking the rules in their group along with Wilmur. If they were breaking their group rules, then they weren't allowed in their group, but Joe was letting them in. Len didn't care if Wilmur and Daryl were helping them search for the man who killed Lou or not. They weren't part of the Claimers.

They followed the train tracks as their eyes searched between them for any footprints or clearings. Wilmur fell beside Joe with Daryl on the other side of him, leaving Joe in the middle. Silence roamed between them as they kept their eyes on the tracks to search for clues left by Carl or the man who killed Lou.

Wilmur's eyes darted from the tracks and to Len who was walking just ahead of them. His fists clenched as one of his hands grasped onto the handle of his pistol held in his holster. Len not only needed to be dead for the way he insulted his relationship with Carl, but for the way he insulted everyone's relationship. He was one of the homophobias who caused nothing but trouble before and during the outbreak. Len didn't deserve to live.

They walk out from under a small bridge to observe the litter left on the side of the tracks. No blood could be seen against the tracks or the trash to the side of the train tracks. Transpiration dripped off the green leafs on the trees and landed against the rocks and mulch covered in dirt.

"So what's the plan?" Joe asked Wilmur and Daryl.

"How so?" Daryl grumbled.

Joe shrugged. "You're with us now but ain't soon?"

Wilmur shot Joe a glare. "I thought we said you would help us find my boyfriend and then you'd let us leave." He growled.

"We're gonna keep that deal if y'all want to keep it." Joe replied. "But what's the plan?"

Daryl grumbled in annoyance at the investigating questions. "We're gonna find Wilmur's boyfriend and look for the right place."

"Oh, we ain't good enough for y'all, huh?" Joe replied.

"Some of you ain't exactly friendly." Daryl retorted.

"You and Wilmur ain't so friendly yourselves." Joe replied, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "You know y'all need a group out here."

Daryl shook his head. "Maybe we don't."

Joe gave his head a shake. "No, you do. You should be with us."

Wilmur knew they were going to try and convince him and Daryl to stay the moment they stepped into their group. He knew Joe was going to try to convince them to join their group despite all the trouble they've been causing since they stepped in. Joe thought they belonged with the Claimers but they didn't. He and Daryl couldn't stay around Joe because they didn't belong with his cranky group who had a certain evil inside them.

There was something off about all the Claimers. Deep inside them somewhere, their was a spark of evilness mixing around in the darkness of their cruel hearts. There was something mischievous and suspicious in their eyes hidden behind an unseen shield.

A walker snarl interrupted their conversation from a few, unstable buildings resting against the left side of the tracks. The walker snarled at the amount of fresh flesh it would get to eat, stumbling toward them before Billy sent his weapon through the walker's soft skull.

"People don't got to be friendly." Joe continued. "We don't have to be nice. We don't have to be brothers in arms. We just got to follow the rules. We claim. If you steal, you keel. I know that sounds a little funny, but nobody laughs when somethin' goes missing. And you don't lie. Cause' that's a slippery slope indeed."

"What happens when you break 'em?" Daryl asked, still holding the dead rabbit.

Joe shrugged. "Oh, you catch a beatin'. The severity of which depends upon the defense and the general attitude of the day. But that don't happen much cause' when men like us follow rules and cooperate a little bit, well, the world becomes ours."

Wilmur secretly shot Joe a death glare at the punishment you'd get if you broke one of their rules. It showed the evilness lurking inside their veins and the mischievous things they've done creeping in their eyes. The group had done terrible things which was shown in their mischievous chuckles and their evil eyes.

He and Daryl both knew the group was evil and cranky. They knew the Claimers had done horrible things to most likely innocent people in the past. The man who killed Lou they were helping track down was probably innocent, but they had no choice if the Claimers were the path which would lead to Carl.

Beth had told them both there was still good people left in the destroyed world filled with evil and darkness around every corner they manage to run into. She told them to believe in hope for a bright future and for good people to still be around. Beth was the only reason why they were giving the Claimers even a slight chance.

Joe placed two fingers inside his mouth, whistling for them to stop at a building where Len could rest his injured knee. "Right there. It's our abode for the evening."

"Hey." Daryl said, grabbing Joe's attention. "There ain't no us."

Wilmur furrowed his eyebrows at Daryl, crossing his arms before taking a step toward him to figure out what he meant. They couldn't leave right at this very moment. The Claimers were still able to help them track down Carl.

Joe furrowed his eyebrows at Daryl as well, taking a few steps toward him to see straight through his eyes. "You leaving right now?"

Daryl just glared at Joe as his fists clenched against the dead rabbit he was still holding which would be in his stomach in just a few hours.

"No?" Joe continued before taking a few steps toward the building they'd be staying in and turning back to look at Daryl. "Then it sure seems like there's an us."

Wilmur shot Joe a glare before turning to Daryl, gently grabbing his arm. "Daryl, we have to stay with them for now if we're gonna find Carl. It's the only way."

Daryl softened his eyes as he darted them to Wilmur who had worry and concern in his eyes. They both needed to stay if they were going to find Carl and to relax a bit more for a little while. Before they met the Claimers, all they've been doing was sprinting throughout the woods every single day with danger greeting them in every corner. It was because it was just them alone in the woods against a thousand of walkers. But now they were with a group where they could catch their breath for a while and have a better chance of finding Carl as fast as they can.

Joe chuckled as he stared upon the ex-adoptive father and son when he noticed the feelings being expressed in their blue eyes, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "Is either one of you a cat person? I am. Loved 'em since I was three-years-old. Vicious creatures. Anyway, I'll tell y'all, and this is true, ain't nothing sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he's an indoor cat."

Wilmur watched as the Claimers slowly walked inside the buildings with their chuckles escaping their throats. He looked back at Daryl and shrugged before following the Claimers to the building.

Slowly, they slid open the door and walked in with their weapons held up while Daryl slid the door shut behind them. Wilmur took a moment to observe the building as the small pieces of grime landed against his cheeks with stained blood from the walkers and bruises from when a car hit him. The building was filled with cars as particles of grime landed against the windows and stained the original color on the doors and trunk.

Despite all the thin dust draining the oxygen, the building filled with grimy cars was too clean for anyone who happened to pass by in it. No foot or handprints were printed against the dust on the floor and walls.

"They ain't here." Tony said. "Nobody's been here for a while. Whoever was, they got all the gas"

"That don't matter." Joe replied. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

Wilmur ignored the Claimers and followed Daryl over to a car covered with a plastic, black bag. He helped pull the plastic bag off while he threw Daryl's backpack to the floor as dust sprung off the car when it was exposed to the air. They threw the plastic bag to the floor before Daryl set his crossbow against the hoodie of the car.

Billy kicked Daryl's backpack away from the car after walking up to them. "Claimed."

Wilmur scoffed as Daryl glared, picking up his crossbow from the hoodie of the grimy car as Harley claimed another car while Dan claimed a mattress. They quickly rushed to a truck, but Len threw his bag in it.

"Claimed." Len smirked.

Tony and Joe claimed the last two cars, leaving Wilmur and Daryl with no choice but to sleep on the hard, cold floor. Daryl laid a black, plastic bag against the hard floor before laying his crossbow beside it, settling down with Wilmur just beside him as he gripped onto his knife held in his belt.

Wilmur tapped his fingers against the back of his other hand as his eyes stared at the ceiling while they rested. He closed his eyes as he imagined his beautiful lover playing in the clear water of the rushing river while it ran over the sparkling rocks. Giggles were escaping his lips as he splashed against the water brushing against his exposed, pale skin.

Wilmur wished he could have a happy life with Carl like in his imagination, but the Governor took all of those chances away from them. The only life they had now was surviving out on the road, running every single minute of their lives. They could never have time to even catch one, small breath or have one moment of special, quality time.

Now he and Daryl were just with the Claimers, trying to survive by their group rules. The Claimers thought the only way they could survive was by claiming before anyone else could get to it. However, the key to surviving was being together instead of being apart. No one had to fight, they just had to be together like Andrea told him a few minutes before she died.

No one can make it alone now.

Her words were true. No one could truly make it alone in their world now. Everyone had to be with someone to protect one another in order to keep everyone alive. If someone was by themselves, it would only be a matter of time before they died.

Justin could never make it by himself. Although he threw all of his feelings and happiest dreams away and shielded his heart to block out all the pain, he still couldn't make it by himself. Carl had came and shoved Justin away and turned him back to Wilmur because Justin wouldn't make it by himself.

He was Wilmur instead of Justin now because of Carl. He didn't turn back to Wilmur by himself like how some people try to make it alone in the world but never could. Carl was the reason why he was still alive and surviving no matter how hard things were. Like Andrea said, he couldn't make it alone in the world and he wasn't because Carl helped him.

Nothing and no one could turn him back to Justin again, even if someone he truly loved more than anyone died. Justin's heartless heart wasn't in him anymore because Carl had completely demolished and destroyed it before replacing his true heart back in him. No remain of Justin was left. All of the aloneness he had in the world before had withered away.

It was all because he fell in love with Carl. He filled the empty hole in his broken heart and put it back piece by piece. He was no longer alone the moment he opened his heart and let Carl in. All of the emptiness and loneness he had inside him was gone and replaced with love and care. The passion and desire he had for Carl took over the empty hole and filled it back up again.

He could remember the exact moment he and Carl first met as if it was yesterday.

When he tried to stand up, he fell again due to his injured ankle. However, the second time he tried, someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him back as he heard his growls rippling past his teeth while he was held in a firm grip.

"You're not going anywhere!" Yelled a boy's voice.

He yanked away from the tight grip and quickly turned around to see the same boy with the sheriff hat, only the badge was ripped off.

He glared at the strange boy straight through his light blue, lifeless and vengeful eyes. His hair was brown and slightly longer than most boys hair was. His cheeks had a tad bit of rose color like his, but his was slowly fading away. The young, teenage boy had the same expression in his eyes as Justin's such as pain, darkness, and hopelessness.

The two boys glare at each other, not showing any fear. Justin could tell the boy was strong from being put through everlasting pain that had shattered his damaged heart to pieces by looking in his light blue eyes.

"Hands up." A pistol from a man was suddenly pressed against the back of Justin's head.

Justin scoffed in annoyance, still glaring at the teenage boy as moved his hands above his head. "Happy?"

"Shut up." The distrustful man replied, looking above Justin's shoulder to look at his son who was wearing the sheriff hat. "Carl, go."

"But, Dad-" Carl tried to say but his father cut him off.

"Don't argue. Go."

Carl scoffed, shooting Justin one death last glare before storming back inside the fences of the prison with his fists clenching from anger.

Justin's eyes darted to Carl's father who had a beard. The father of Carl's eyes were filled with rage, anger, and frustration just like Carl's was, only Carl had a powerful shield blocking the pain out of his emotions unlike his father who was miserable and weak.

Wilmur remembered the immediate hatred they automatically grew for each other the second they met. He remembered how much Justin hated him when he wasn't Wilmur. They both had a disliking for each other when their feelings were blocked off from their damaged hearts.

However, the moment Justin changed back to Wilmur, he immediately formed a strong bond with Carl who still had his feelings blocked off from his broken heart with the shield around it shattering it to pieces. He grew a certain strong desire for Carl after his heart opened up to his feelings.

After Carl destroyed the strong shield wrapped around his own heart, desire and a certain type of warmth grew as he began to bond with Wilmur himself. The hatred they once had for each other was replaced with desire and passion as they felt the warmth for each other.

After Andrea died and the war with the Governor was over, he and Carl finally began their romantic relationship. All the hatred, the coldness, the loneness, and the emptiness was all gone. He and Carl loved each other instead of hated like they did in the beginning.

Wilmur sat in the back of the car as he stared out the window while resting so the wounds, cuts, and bruises his father placed against his slender body could heal. Michonne was placing washrags over his face and arms in effort to stop the bleeding pain. However, it wasn't just the physical pain that needed to stop bleeding but emotional as well.

He had just lost another mother and a friend who was completely innocent to the cruel and brutal world. His own father had killed someone he loved, but he didn't have to worry about it anymore. The violent war was over and he was going back to the prison along with other people from Woodbury Rick offered to bring to the prison with him due to the Governor not being there for them anymore.

Wilmur was going home. Going back to Carl.

They'll be together again after what felt like a long time, but was only a few days. They could finally live happily together instead of sitting in fear from the Governor.

Maggie and Glenn open the gate for their vehicles, letting each of them in. The white bus carried the people from Woodbury who weren't fighting in the violent and tensed war such as Sasha and Tyreese. He knew Carl wouldn't be delighted to have newcomers who once stood on the Governor's side but he'll be thrilled to have Wilmur back.

Michonne darted her brown eyes to the injured Wilmur, concern filling her tearful eyes from when she cried over Andrea's death. "Go inside and rest. Hershel will be in there in a few."

"Let me help everyone settle first." Wilmur declined the offer.

He, Michonne, and Rick step out of the car. Michonne and Rick help Maggie and Glenn while Wilmur helped the people from Woodbury get off the bus along with Sasha and Tyreese. The newcomers smiled as they stepped off the bus while staring upon their new, safer home. They wouldn't have to live in fear anymore. The war was over.

Carl, Beth, Judith, and Hershel step out of the building, observing what was happening. Carl scoffed when he saw the people from Woodbury stepping off the bus, but smiled when he saw Wilmur helping them. Wilmur turned his head and smiled as well the moment he saw Carl's face. The two teenagers grinned and ran up to each other, hugging tightly as they embraced.

They both didn't know how long they would be separated, but it didn't matter anymore because they were together now, just like Wilmur promised they would be. For once in his life, Wilmur was finally able to keep a promise.

Carl opened his mouth to speak, but Wilmur quickly placed a finger over Carl's soft lips.

"I love you."

They suddenly smashed their lips together. They closed their eyes and savored the sweet kiss. The warmth spreaded throughout their veins fast and slammed into the heart with passion and tenderness as desire filled it. The sweet kiss deepened and grew with more passion and desire as they tongues battled tenderly. Desire hovered over their blood while the passion sped through their veins and the tenderness hit their loving and passionate hearts.

Wilmur was pretty experienced, but Carl would learn over time. However, that didn't matter. What mattered was the boys were kissing in the red roses. All the black roses were gone.

After he and Carl's relationship began, everything was perfect. All of the emptiness and loneness was all gone as if it was never there in the first place. Emptiness, loneliness, and hatred was replaced with desire, happiness, and love after his relationship with Carl began.

All of his pain and heartache withered away into the sky while desire and passion filled their hearts. Everything was either replaced with desire, happiness, or love after all the tension, pain, loneliness, and hatred was teared out of their damaged hearts.

But now pain was shattering his heart again because his father had came back and destroyed their home where they were so happy, killed everyone they loved so much, and separated him from the one person he loved more than anything and anyone else on the entire planet. He took almost everything from him and almost killed the person he truly loved.

If Carl were to ever die, Wilmur wouldn't be sure if he could go on or not. If he lost him, something or someone else would come because after they lose something, they always get something back. But nothing or no one would be able to replace Carl. A huge, empty hole would be left in his shattered heart forever and nothing and no one would never be able to fill it back up.

Carl was everything to him. Despite the sticks and stones he's been put through, Carl made him feel like the happiest person alive. He brushed away his tears when he cried and healed his heart when he was upset. He made more happy than anyone ever did in his entire life. Carl helped push through all the pain in the world and put happiness and passion in his heart.

Wilmur didn't even know he was slowly drifting off to sleep while thinking of his beautiful lover and everything they went through. His sweet breath was evening while he thought of Carl with his eyes closed gently as he breathed softly.

Len's annoyed and angry voice interrupted him from his thoughts as he awoke from accidently slowly drifting off to sleep. His eyes fluttered open before darting them to Len who had anger and frustration in his.

"You've to be kidding me. Christ." Len said with frustration in his tone when he noticed his half of his rabbit was gone, walking toward him and holding out his hand while he and Daryl as they lifted themselves up on their elbows. "Give it here."

Daryl glared upon seeing the blame and frustration in Len's eyes. "You step back."

"My half was in the bag. Now it's gone." Len growled as Wilmur and Daryl stood up before taking slow menacing steps toward him while Joe slowly advanced them. "Now ain't nobody around here interested in no half a damn cottontail except y'all two! Ain't that right?"

"You're the only one still thinking about that crap!" Daryl snapped while Wilmur shot Len a death glare with his hand grasping his pistol in his holster.

Len took a menacing step toward them with Wilmur doing the same as he growled through his gritted teeth while his fist clenched against the handle of his pistol in his holster.

"If I were you, I'd step back, stupid piece of shit." Wilmur hissed, pulling his pistol out of his holster and clicking the safety off. "We're the ones who has weapons! You don't!"

Len leaned in his face and shot him a death glare as he growled, his hands placed over his hips as he stepped closer. "You'll get teach all the way if you hurt me, faggot bitch. Empty y'all's bag!"

"I said step back!" Daryl snapped, picking up his bag as he glared upon Len.

Len shot he and Daryl one of his most deadliest glares in his angry brown eyes as he clamped his lips shut to keep himself from yelling and attracting walkers while he clenched his fists to keep himself from attacking the ex-father and son. They took dangerous, menacing steps toward each other as Wilmur slowly started to pull his pistol toward Len's forehead.

Joe frowned at the heated argument before walking toward them to break it up, taking away Wilmur and Daryl's bag before taking away Wilmur's pistol. Wilmur gritted his teeth to keep himself from lashing out at Len and Joe while clenching his fists with a deadly glare in his frustrated eyes.

"Did either of y'all take his rabbit?" Joe asked Wilmur and Daryl, holding their bag. "Just tell me the truth."

"We didn't take nothin'." Daryl growled, clenching his fists tightly that his palms were turning purple.

Joe sighed quietly before emptying their bag with small axes made out of wood and metal along with a coat. "What do we got here?"

Suddenly, half of Len's dead rabbit fell out of the bag, causing Wilmur to take a dangerous and threatening, menacing step toward Len as he pulled his back machete out of his belt filled with knives.

"Well, look at that." Joe said, staring at Len's dead rabbit Wilmur and Daryl really didn't take.

Wilmur lunged toward Len, smashing his body against his and trapping him with his arms Daryl taught him how to do in the prison while Daryl pushed Len back as he glared straight through Len's mischievous eyes to see the lie in it.

"You put that there, didn't you?!" Daryl yelled. "When Wilmur and I went inside that house?!"

Len glared as he fought against the trap Wilmur closed him in. "Y'all both lied."

"Shut the hell up!" Wilmur snapped, yanking himself off Len before slashing his machete against Len's shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain as he stumbled back. "You put that there so you can get Daryl and I kicked out, liar!"

Len grabbed Wilmur by the collar of his grey flannel and pulled him close as growls rippled past his yellow, gritted teeth while Daryl leaned close to his face as their fists clenched. "Y'all lied. Y'all stole. We gonna teach these fools or what, Joe?"

Joe quickly pulled Wilmur away from Len's tight grip as he pushed Daryl away while he stared while he stared at Len to calm him down. "Whoa, whoa. Now, Daryl and Wilmur says he didn't take your half of the rabbit. So we got a little conundrum here. Either they're lying, which is an actionable offense, or...you didn't plant it on 'em like some pussy, punk-ass, cheating, coward cop, did you? Cause' while that wouldn't be specifically breaking the rules, it'd be disappointing." Joe chuckled.

"It would." Len replied, turning his glaring eyes to Joe and leaning in his face with seriousness sneaking in his eyes. "I didn't."

"Good." Joe replied, patting Len on the shoulder and turning to Wilmur and Daryl before quickly turning back to Len who was lying. "Well...teach him a lesson, gents. He's a lying sack of shit. I'm sick of it. Teach him all the way!"

Suddenly, Joe slammed his fist hard against Len's cheek, leaving the rest of the Claimers to beat him up for his lesson about no lying. The Claimers slammed their fists and feet against Len's body as he grunted and shrieked in pain. Blood poured out of his body and new bruises formed against his skin with each fist and foot landing against his now fragile body.

Wilmur and Daryl watch as the Claimers beat Len up to death. Neither of them cared about Len because he blamed Daryl for too many stuff and insulted Wilmur's relationship with Carl more than one time. But they were shocked for his own leader to tell his group members to beat one of his own group members up to death.

It reminded them of how Rick kicked Carol out of the group after they figured out she was the one who killed Karen and David. Rick and Joe had both threw away one of their members from the group.

Joe frowned as he looked back at Wilmur and Daryl who had furiousness and a spark of shock expressed in their eyes. "I saw him do it." He admitted.

Wilmur scoffed, giving his head an annoyed shake at Joe. He didn't bother to stop one of the members of his group from making a mistake but instead, let him put the rabbit in their bag and try to get them both beat up to death which only resulted in getting himself killed. He didn't save one of his group members from suicide.

"Why didn't you try to stop him?" Daryl asked with anger in his tone while he glared upon Joe.

"He wanted to play that out. I let him." Joe shrugged, pointing his index finger at them. "Y'all told the truth. He lied. Y'all understand the rules. He doesn't."

Wilmur sighed sharply before turning his head to see crimson Len's blood splattering against the floor and the Claimers jackets and coats as their fists and beet slammed against his bruised, fragile body. Dark bruises formed across his skin as he groaned and shrieked with each hit he was taking from his ex-buddies while they laughed.

Like Len, a liar always ended up getting killed in the end. Lies did nothing but cause yourself and others around you to get killed because they believed something that wasn't true. The results of a lie always ended badly and horribly with getting someone innocent killed just like the Governor.

The Governor's lies only resulted in getting more than dozens of people killed, including himself in the end. His horrible lies caused Andrea's death, Milton's, Hershel's, and hundreds of innocent lives in the prison. Blood was always spilled with each lie that came out of his mouth and someone always ended up getting either killed or injured because of them.

Daryl and Wilmur watch as Len got beat up from all his ex-buddies while Joe picked up the rabbit that was once Len's but now was theirs like it should've been.

Joe tapped on Wilmur's shoulder, grabbing his attention before handing him the rabbit. "Guess this is your half of the rabbit now."

Wilmur slowly took before giving Joe a small nod, grabbing the black, plastic bag and tucking the rabbit in as he listened to Len's groans and shrieks of pain while the Claimers beat him up to death. He could hear the blood splattering against the floor, coloring the white dust crimson red.

Their laughs echo's in his ringing ears as he listened to each punch and kick slamming up against Len's ribcages, shattering them to pieces as they printed bruises up and down his body. He could feel his father's hard knuckles slamming right up against every bone in his body, breaking each and every one of them while he listened to his rough and harsh voice in his ears.

He could feel his father's bloody fist printing bruises over his entire body as he broke his ribs and wrists while stabbing a large knife through his shoulders. He could his father's angry voice in his ears and the sound of every punch landing against his cheeks as he listened to the Claimers beat up Len.

Flashes of his father's vengeful eye erupted his mind while he thought of Carol at the same time as both of their strong voices circled around his mind. He listened to the kicking and punching landing against Len's fragile body while he thought of his father beating him up like the Claimers were beating up Len. At the same time, he listened to Len's groans and shrieks as he thought of Karen and David who were burnt with Carol's voice circling in his ears.

His father and Carol flashed before his eyes as he pictured Karen and David's burnt bodies laying in the prison fields of him along with Andrea's, Milton's, and Penny's. The Claimers had the evilness of the Governor and Carol inside them both and a spark of mischievousness hiding behind the shield wrapped around them.

Wilmur gasped when a hand was placed over his shoulder, shaking him out of his deep thoughts before turning his head around to see it was Daryl. His eyes were filled with concern like Beth's were with his hand resting against his shoulder.

"You okay?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur closed his eyes before nodding and tying up the black bag with the rabbit in it before spreading it out for him and Daryl to use as a pillow. Daryl settled down beside him, placing his back against his as their fingers gently grasped onto their weapons. Wilmur gently rubbed his thumb against machete while he listened to the fists and feet land against Len's skin.

One of Len's ribcages cracked a sound into the silent air, causing him to shriek in pain as the Claimers destroyed his ribcages while their feet slammed against him. Wilmur trembled as he recalled his father's cold voice and Karen's burnt laying alongside David's with Carol standing before them.

Wilmur squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to shove the dark thoughts out of his head and replace them with Carl playing on the sparkling river rocks or giggling along with Judith as she sat in his lap.

His squeezing eyes softened and his trembling breath evened as he thought of Carl, slowly drifting off to sleep as he blocked out the noises from the Claimers fists smashing against Len's bruised and fragile body.

Michonne gently shook Carl awake, the sunrise shining upon them as it gleamed against their dirty skin and bristled in their brown hair. Carl yawned as he awake, blocking his eyes from the bright light in the sunrise. He grumbled in annoyance from being awaken too early in the morning. He wanted to sleep more and especially because he barely got any due to the night terrors.

Slowly, he dragged his dirty hands away from his eyes to greet the sky painted with colors such as bright orange and light pink along with icy blue. The orange sun was covered with light pink clouds as the colors bristled against their skin

Carl's drooping eyes with black sags under them darted to his father whose head was resting against his brown coat with his eyes loosely closed, his lips partially opened from his evened breathing. Blood was printed against his knuckles from killing too many walkers the other night with some blood droplets clinging to the hairs in his beard.

"What're we doing?" Carl asked groggily. "It's early."

"We're going on a small run." Michonne replied, rubbing circles on Carl's back. "It'll just be you and me. Your dad is gonna stay here and wait for us until we get back."

Carl sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his droopy eyes. "Should we wake Dad?"

Michonne printed a tiny smile across her lips, giving her head a shake. "No. I told him we'll be gone when he wakes up."

"But wouldn't he worry?" Carl asked, his voice still groggily as his eyes filled up with concern.

Michonne shook her head. "No. Besides, he needs to catch up on his sleep."

The young sighed deeply, lifting himself up off the ground and wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered, rubbing them to transfer warmth from his hands to his chilly arms as the cool air brushed against his skin. He picked up his holster with his gun in it and wrapped it around his leg again, clipping it together before wrapping his belt around his pants again.

The samurai tied her sword to her back again before picking up the bag and dumping the supplies out of it next to Rick and wrapping it around her shoulder. Carl picked up a knife that fell out of the bag and placed it in his belt, tucking his blue flannel behind it before he wrapped wires around where his father was sleeping before tying cans on it so if a walker came, the cans would signal his father a walker was nearby.

Michonne took the lead, her hand grasping her sword on her back just in case any walker made an appearance. The mother-and-son like figures walked off the tracks, looking back at the sleeping Rick to make sure he was okay before heading toward the woods with bags held in their hands.

"There should be a small neighborhood somewhere in the woods. We'll check there and then check out the summer camp around here."

Carl furrowed his eyebrows. "There's a summer camp?"

Michonne nodded.

Carl gave away a tiny smile before following Michonne in the woods filled with leafs laying against the branches on the ground with blood droplets printed against them. Letters were spray painted on the trees and carvings were carved against the bark. Symbols were written in the dirt and mud as the green leafs landed against.

Some letters were written in crimson blood against the thick bark of the trees. A lot of the letters and symbols were warnings for them to turn back and leave, but the blood wasn't fresh, signaling bad people had been through a few months or so ago.

Worry filled Michonne's eyes as she stared at the warnings written in blood and the symbols written in the dirt and mud. She knew there was bad people once there a few months or so ago, but she was still worried for Carl's safety. They've already lost too much people. The last thing they needed was losing another person in the hands of a horrifying human.

Her eyes darted to Carl who had his head bowed down as he watched his feet take each step with his bag held loosely in his hand. No emotion could be read in his eyes as he stared at the ground filled with leafs and branches blankly.

Concern filled Michonne's eyes as she stared toward the young teen with her head bowed down. She was worried about him since he wasn't as talkative as he was back in the prison. Although she knew he was hurt from all the loses he had, it was no excuse to cut himself off from her and his father.

One way or another, she was going to get Carl to talk about what happens in his horrific nightmares. She wasn't going to leave the boy who was like her own son hurt. She was going to find a way to help him and get him to open up about his nightmares, and she knew exactly what to do.

"Let's play a little game." Michonne said, smiling in hopes to make the young teen feel better. "With each house we go into, whoever finds the most supplies, gets to ask a question, it can be anything they want, and you have to answer it."

Carl faked a tiny smile across his chapped lips. "You're on, but I'm the supply champion."

Michonne smirked. "Oh, are you sure?"

The young teen giggled softly before following after the samurai into a small neighborhood filled with house that were freshly built just a few years before the apocalypse. They were cleaner and less dusty from the last houses the last time they came across a neighborhood. No windows were broken like most others and no dead bodies hovered over the porch along with flies.

All of the houses were just free of dust and dead bodies along with a rotten, disgusting smell with flies gathering around it. The air was more fresher than any fresh scent they've smelt since the outbreak started. The road didn't have dead leafs hovering over it like neighborhoods did. No walkers stumbled across the sidewalks with wrecked bicycles laying against it.

They walked toward a house made out of red brick which had a blue porch with white rocking chairs sitting against it. Carl kept his pistol aimed toward the clean house before swinging open the door, rushing inside and shutting the door behind them. The living room had a fireplace with a clean TV hanging above it. Dark brown recliners gathered near the fireplace with a black, coffee table blocking them from going any further. Behind the recliners was a long, red couch which sat in front of the black, coffee table.

A large, wooden brown bookshelf stood in the corner of the room filled with big books which could take forever to read. Carl searched the bookshelf as he pushed the books out of the way to check for any hidden weapons or ammunition. He pulled out a book which had a Beretta in it before tucking the gun in his belt.

He made his way in the kitchen with his pistol held up to see the kitchen was completely clean with no footprints on the white floor as the dining light hang from the ceiling. Carl opened the drawers to find a few sharp knives, tucking one of them in his belt while throwing the other two in the bag. He walked toward the cabinets and opened each of them to only find a box of cereal half way full before stuffing it in his bag.

Carl made his way in one of the bedrooms to see it had a king-sized bed with two wardrobes on each side. He opened one of the wardrobes to see a large knife was hiding in one of the shoes. He bent down and picked it up, observing the blood stains against it before tucking it in his bag and heading to the next wardrobe to find no secret supplies hiding in it.

The bedroom's king bathroom had nothing but toothbrushes and toothpaste left along with soap and shampoo, but none of them were useful. He checked the bottom to see nothing but piles of colorful towels before heading out of the bedroom to meet Michonne in the kitchen.

He smirked when he noticed Michonne had barely any supplies in her bag before setting his down on the table. "I win."

Michonne sighed, pulling out a blue hoodie she found in one of the closets upstairs. "Okay, fine. You win. I found you a jacket upstairs though." She smiled, throwing it at him.

Carl was quick to catch it, smirking in victory before stuffing it in his bag. "Okay, so do you have feelings for my dad?"

Michonne furrowed her eyebrows, a grin sneaking it's way across her lips. "What? What kind of question is that?"

Carl giggled in amusement. "Do you?"

"No." Michonne replied. "Why would you think I have feelings for your dad?"

The young teen shrugged, still smiling. "You two just talk a lot."

Michonne smiled and giggled before making her way out of the clean house and heading to the next one with Carl just ahead of her who was rushing inside the clean house. She shook her head, smiling and following after the young teen. She shut the door behind her and checked the living room first.

The living room was huge with a pretty red carpet taking up almost the whole wooden floor. The dining room was in the same room om the left side of the room with a chandelier hanging just above it. On the table were clean plates left on the soft rags laying against the wood. She picked up a small knife laying against one of the green plates and threw it in her bag.

She grasped onto her sword and checked the kitchen while Carl checked the rooms upstairs to see three bedrooms with a small, fancy bathroom with a wooden bathtub. He checked one of the rooms which belonged to a pre-teen boy with one of his bodies laying dead on the bed with his hands draped over his stomach. He simply ignored the dead body which was half rotten and checked the closets and drawers to find a few bullets in it.

He smiled and placed them in his pistol before holstering it again and checking the next room which belonged to a teenage girl. The posters and selfies posted against the wall were fading away slowly along with the colorful lamps placed all around her room. He checked the drawers to find a pistol which was empty before checking her closet to find nothing but fashionable cloths.

Carl sighed at finding so supplies in the room before heading to the last bedroom which belonged to a young boy who had toy robots and cars hovering over his blue carpet. The bed was a racecar and the posters had Toy Story characters. He picked up a toy and examined it before throwing it back down in rage and checking the closet filled with nothing but cloths and shoes and the empty dressers.

The fancy bathroom with the wooden bathtub and shower had nothing but a few soap and shampoo bottles along with a couple shavers. He sighed and made his way back downstairs to check the parent's bedroom. A small safe laid against the top of the wardrobe and carefully pulled it down. He pulled his knife out of his belt and stuck it through the small safe's lock, forcing it to unlock.

Two fully-loaded pistols along with two big knives. He smirked and pulled out the pistols and stuffed them in his bag before doing the same with one of the large knives while the other one went in his belt before making his way back in the kitchen whose bag was still almost empty. She sighed when she noticed the new knives and two new pistols in hos bag.

"I win." Carl said again, setting his bag on the counter. "Name one of the biggest things you regret."

Michonne sighed as she thought of her best friend. "I regret leaving Andrea behind with the Governor."

Carl nodded, a sad smile appearing on his chapped lips with a spark of regret in his eyes. He didn't mean to remind Michonne of something horrible she had gone through with another loved one because all it brought them was heart aching pain. Although he didn't clearly mean something she regretted doing during the outbreak, there was nothing they did as horrible as the things they've done before the outbreak started.

Michonne sighed deeply as she grasped onto her sword on her back while walking out of the house and to the one across the street. The house was clean and safe enough to check just like the other two houses they checked. Carl took the lead, walking inside the house slowly with his pistol held up as he checked the dining room and the kitchen while Michonne checked the living room and master bedroom.

Carl opened the small, cabinet doors near the dining table to find nothing but a few matches and a couple of wine bottles along with some kitchen knives. He sighed and closed the cabinets before walking in the kitchen with his pistol held up to see nothing but empty cookie jars laying on the counters. He lowered his pistol and opened the cabinets to find everything gone besides the cups and plates. He opened the empty refrigerator before opening the drawers to find ammo hiding inside them.

The young teen threw the ammo in the bag before checking the bathroom to find a little bit of blood droplets on the white floor before seeing a large knife leading the tiny blood dots. He picked up the large knife before stuffing it in his bag and heading back to the kitchen where Michonne already was with a little bit of supplies in her bag, but not as much as Carl's.

The samurai frowned in Carl's victory when she noticed the new supplies he had. She sighed but smiled weakly before Carl handed her ammo and a pistol along with a large knife. She placed the ammo in her new pistol before tucking it in her belt along with the large knife.

"All right, what's your question?" Michonne asked.

Carl smirked as he rolled his eyes to the ceilings as he thought of one of the many questions he had inside his head. "Have you ever left your boyfriend? I mean, at least before the outbreak."

"No." Michonne replied. "But if he was still alive, I've probably left him."

Carl furrowed his eyebrows at her cold tone but decided not to say anything. He didn't want to remind her of the darkness she was put through before she came across them outside the prison fences. Neither one of them wanted to think or talk about their dark past because it would nothing but heartache and tears. They just wanted to get the supply run over with and get to Terminus.

Michonne faked a smile, grabbing her bag which was almost empty and making her way out of the house with her hand grasping onto the sword on her back. Carl rushed to the next house to try and gain victory as fast as he could. Michonne smirked and shook her head, following the young teen in the house.

The samurai checked the kitchen and living room while Carl checked the dining room and the bedrooms upstairs which was just as empty as downstairs. Neither of them found anything useful inside any of the rooms, forcing them to head to the next one which was also completely empty.

They headed to the house across the street which was filled with dead bodies and useful supplies. Carl checked the rooms downstairs while Michonne checked the ones upstairs. The rooms upstairs were filled with ammunition and pistols scattered around as they hid. She smirked and grabbed each of the weapons one by one, stuffing them in her bag.

Michonne made her way back downstairs to where Carl was standing with a bag filled with supplies. However, she had more supplies in her bag than Carl did. She smirked in her victory while Carl frowned when he noticed her bag filled with supplies more than his own.

"I win." Michonne smirked, but frowned as soon as she opened her mouth to ask the question about Carl's nightmares. "What are your nightmares about?"

Carl flinched as his breath began to tremble while his fingers shook with each nightmare had slipping back into his mind. Now he knew why Michonne wanted to play the question and confession game. It was because she wanted to figure out what his horrifying nightmares were about. It was why she wanted to take him on a run.

"I-I-I can't say." Carl trembled as his arms shook from the nightmare.

Michonne sighed deeply, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Rules of the game, remember?"

The young teen's breath trembled as he gulped nervously as he thought of every signal detail in his horrific night terrors. Flashes of his nightmares flooded his shaking mind as his legs threatened to give out. He gripped onto Michonne's shirt to keep himself from collapsing to the floor. Michonne immediately wrapped her arms around the teen to keep him standing when she noticed his knees were about to buckle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Michonne said as her arms wrapped around Carl's slim body. "It's okay. It's okay."

Slowly, the flashes of his nightmares disappeared out of his mind one by one as Michonne's soothing voice broke him out of his nightmares flashing his mind. She rubbed soothing circles on Carl's back as he gripped onto her shirt tightly while he listened to her calming voice calmed him down.

The Governor's harsh voice and the evil tone in Wilmur's voice slowly circled out of his head along with the screams and mischievous laughs. The thick smoke he felt filling his lungs sprung out along with the blood he thought he felt dripping down his temples.

His fingers clinging so tightly to Michonne's shirt loosened before he pulled away when he felt his legs weren't weak anymore along with his arms. His flashing nightmares disappeared out of his mind as he looked Michonne in the eyes for reassurance and comfort. Michonne placed her hand over his shoulder and rubbed it softly with her thumb.

Carl's breath trembled as the nightmares disappeared from his mind. All of the heart wrenching wails and the evil laughing was gone along with the thick, black smoke and the crimson blood.

"It's okay." Michonne reassured with her soothing voice. "You don't have to talk about if you don't want to."

"No." Carl shook his head. "I'll tell you what they're about."

Images of Wilmur laughing mischievously along side the Governor while he grasped onto the knife covered in crimson blood with dead bodies gathering around them with each one being someone he loved flashed by his mind. He could see the evil lurking inside their mischievous eyes as they laughed with wickedness in their tones.

Flashes of Hershel and Judith lit in his mind as he remembered their dead, burnt, stabbed, or eaten bodies in his night terrors. He could still hear their screams and cries of pain as they begged for him to save them from the two monsters who were severely killing them.

"The nightmares, they're-they're about..." Carl trailed off as an image of he evil Wilmur flashed in his mind, but Michonne's palm rubbing his back forced him to keep going. "The nightmares are about...what happened at the prison, but it went a little differently. Everyone was dead...even you were. It was because of-because of the stupid Governor. But...Wilmur did the same. He was on the Governor's side...going against us."

Michonne sighed and closed her eyes as she realized she had been proven right. His nightmares was about Wilmur going against him. It was his nightmares because Wilmur was the son of an evil and sick man who had done horrifying and terrible things to every single one of them. It was what his night terrors were about when he had them in the prison because the Governor had scared them for so long, and a little bit of him was under the exact same roof.

However, Wilmur healed him. He got rid of the night terrors, and it reminded Carl that Wilmur would never do anything to hurt or cause harm to anyone he loved. Although Wilmur didn't know what Carl's nightmares were about either, he still reminded him that he'd never harm him but instead would always be there for him. He pushed through Carl's horrifying moments in the night and completely gotten rid of the nightmares.

But since the Governor attacked them again, the anxiety was back deep inside him somewhere. It caused his night terrors to come back since Wilmur's own father destroyed everything and everyone they worked so hard for and so hard to protect. Wilmur's father killed everyone Carl ever loved.

Carl was in love with the son of an evil man who destroyed every single thing they worked for and fought to protect. He knew Wilmur would never do anything to hurt him, but he was the son of a man who killed everyone he loved.

"Did he kill any of us?" Michonne asked. "Like...did he hurt you?"

Carl nodded as his breath trembled while the night terrors flashed by one by one. "Yeah. He and the Governor...they would work together. Like they were on the same team. They'd kill everyone. And they wouldn't just kill them. They'd make them suffer and laugh about it. And there's nothing I can do except watch." He said, his breath trembling.

"What about you?" Michonne asked. "Did they hurt you?"

Slowly, Carl nodded as his entire body began trembling just by thinking about his nightmares. "Y-yes. The Governor-he would hand Wilmur a-a knife and tell him to kill me, but slowly. And Wilmur will do it, but I can tell he wants to do it. I beg for him to come back to me, but he doesn't listen. He just hurts me and leaves me to die. He'll just laugh."

Michonne sighed deeply with sorrow filling her brown eyes along with sympathy as she stared upon the hurt teen, running her fingers through his soft brown hair. "You do know that Wilmur would never do that, right?"

"I know." Carl replied. "But I can't help but think 'what if?'"

The samurai nodded slowly, pulling the young teen in a warm embrace as she rubbed his back smoothly. Carl wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging her back as the deep thoughts of the nightmares was pushed out of his mind.

"Let's go check out that summer camp." Michonne suggested. "If I get more supplies than you when we walk out of a building, I get to ask another question about your nightmares."

Carl nodded, sniffling and pulling away from the warm embrace before following Michonne down the woods and to the summer camp which was destroyed and overunned by walkers. They walked inside the fences to see walkers walking along in the mud and puddles while some others banged on the cabin doors.

The summer camp was filled with wet mud and puddles along with a few or more walkers roaming around the camp as they looked for fresh flesh. The cabins were wet, dirty, and old from not being cleaned since the apocalypse started. Some dead bodies who were once children but now were nothing but skeleton laid on the muddy ground.

Worry was sent through Michonne's nervous veins along with panic as she stared at the innocent children's, dead and half eaten bodies whose skin was rotting and showing some of the soft bones. Blood was surrounding each of the dead children they've walked past. Some of the walkers were even young children who weren't anymore because the walker inside them took them away.

Carl just walked past them blankly as he made his way over to the infirmary where they held on the medicine. Carl checked the cabinets for medicine while Michonne checked the infirmary's rooms. Carl found nothing but empty pill bottles and itch cream, but that wouldn't help. He checked the bottom cabinets to only find the emptiness.

"Nothing?" Michonne asked him from behind and he shook his head. "Yeah, me neither. Let's check out the cafeteria."

Carl nodded, following the samurai out of the infirmary and to the cafeteria which was filled with rotten food laying on the plates against the food bar and the wooden tables as flies gathered around it. The rotten, wooden tables gave away a disgusting stench as the rotten food scent mixed together. Broken picture frames hang from the wooden walls with pictures of kids in playing around in the summer camp as grime brushed against it the picture, fading the color away slowly.

Michonne pulled out her sword as she walked into the kitchen while Carl checked the dead bodies for any supplies. He pulled one bullet out one of the dead children's pocket. The summer camp surely must've been a camp for survivors after the outbreak started but was overunned by a huge herd of walkers.

He moved to the next body laying under a table and pulled a few bullets out of his pistol, placing them in his pistol and leaving the other one on the dead man. He opened the door to the male's bathroom to see a few dead men hiding in the stalls. He searched them for bullets, but only found a sharp knife. He tucked the sharp knife in his belt before walking in the female's bathroom to search the dead woman and young girls for any ammo, but they had none.

"What're you doing in there?" Michonne snapped at him from behind.

Carl stood up before turning to see Michonne's eyes filled with stern. "What?"

"You're not suppose to be in the girls bathroom." Michonne said, placing her hands on her hips. "Come out."

The young teen sighed in annoyance but obeyed, walking out of the bathroom and setting his bag on one of the rotten tables in the cafeteria. "I put the bullets I found in my pistol. I found a knife, too but it's in my belt."

Michonne nodded, setting her bag on the wooden table. "I found two cans of food. They're almost gone though."

"I guess I win." Carl mummered to himself. "What were you before all this?"

Michonne smiled weakly. "A lawyer."

Carl nodded, a tiny and weak smile forming across his chapped lips. "Where do we go next?"

"You can't ask another question." Michonne joked before looking out of the broken window to see a wooden building bigger than most. "What about there?"

Carl nodded, walking out of the cafeteria with his bag still held in his hand while Michonne followed from behind, her hand gently grasping her sword on her back. Carl swung open the door with his pistol held up, rushing inside while Michonne shut the door behind them. They scavenged for supplies in the small office, only to find keys to cabins.

Michonne made her way up the wooden stairs with her hand grasping her sword gently on her back. She swung open one of the doors to see the room was filled with ammunition and bullets. She smirked and grabbed all of the bullets that matched her pistol, Carl's, and Rick's. She tucked the bullets in her pistol Carl had gotten for her before stuffing the other bullets for Rick and Carl in her bag.

She made her way back down the wooden stairs to see Carl standing near the counters with a frown plastered over his chapped lips. He hadn't found any useful supplies in the office building unlike Michonne who had found lot's of bullets for their guns.

"I win." Michonne smirked, handing Carl some ammo. "The night terrors you have about Wilmur and the Governor, was that what your nightmares were about in the prison?"

Carl hesitated before nodding slowly. "Yeah, it was worse then, though. At least until Wilmur started sleeping with me. That's when they got better."

Michonne nodded. "When we see Wilmur again, I think you should tell him what your nightmares are about."

"But-"

"No." Michonne interrupted with a stern voice. "You have to tell Wilmur what they're about. You need to let him help, Carl."

The young teen sighed, bowing his head with his sheriff hat blocking his view from staring at the wooden floor as bug crawled in between the cracks of the wood. He slowly reached in his pocket of his jeans and pulled out the sparkling rock Wilmur had given him when the prison fell.

He missed Wilmur. He missed his sweet breath brushing against his neck while it disturbed his hair. He missed how his hands felt his body. He missed his warm and strong arms holding him when he was angry or upset. He missed his soft and warm lips being pressed against his own and their tongues battling in a competition.

It was Wilmur who satisfied Carl through all his needs and wants. He broke the shield once wrapped around his heart which blocked all of his emotions from sinking in just like he helped Wilmur shatter his shield. Wilmur was the one who helped him push through his heartbreaking pain and protected him from more to come.

They were both there for each other when others wasn't. They took care of each other when no one was able to and protected one another from the dangerous death threats in the terrifying world. Their desires for the warmth of each other pushed them together and replaced the grief and pain with desire and love.

"I don't want him to think I'm scared of him." Carl said, clenching the sparkling rock tightly.

"You kind of are, Carl." Michonne replied. "It's not Wilmur you're scared of though. It's the fact that he's the Governor's son."

Carl scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'm not scared."

"Explain that to the night terrors then." Michonne said with a mother-like, stern tone. "You need to let him in. Let him help. I'm sure he can. I'll help as much as I can until we find him, but you need to let him help. It's the only way to get rid of your nightmares."

Carl sighed, placing his new bullets in his pistol before holstering it again and picking up his bag, wrapping it around his shoulder before walking out of the summer camp's office with Michonne just behind him. They made their way back into the woods filled with warnings and symbols written in blood or mud.

A few walkers followed them throughout the green and dead forest as they walked in silence. Both of their eyes were darted to the ground filled with dead leafs and branches covered in blood droplets.

A walker snarl nearby caused them both to flinch and yank their weapons out, aiming it toward the noise which came from a demolished house. It was sitting above the tracks with the roof fallen right beside it. Dust and thick grime was hovering over the brick building with rotten dead bodies laying in the back yard filled with nothing but blood and dust.

"What's that building over there?" Carl asked, pointing to it.

Michonne darted her eyes off the branchy and leafy ground and to the house covered in nothing but dead bodies, grime, and thick, yellow and white dust coloring the brown, half fallen bricks. The broken windows were leaving tiny dots in the thick, yellow dust from bugs as they crawled against it and climbed up the walkers arms hanging out of the shattered windows.

"It looks dangerous." Michonne said.

Carl shrugged. "It's worth a try though. Whoever finds the most supplies gets to answer ask a question."

Michonne weakly smiled and followed Carl to the front of the almost demolished house. The concrete on the porch was covered with dead bodies along with crimson blood coloring the grimy porch dark red. A bang against the front door caused them flinch and point their weapons toward the door that was suppose to be white but was yellow due to the dust.

Michonne swung the door opened and sent her sword straight through the walker's skull before yanking it out and letting it buckle to the hard concrete of the porch. Carl held his pistol up as he walked inside the demolished house to see all the white and yellow dust against the wooden floor.

The wooden rocking chairs were suppose to be colored brown but instead, was colored write due to the thick grime. Carl checked the dead bodies for any ammo or weapons before checking the kitchen for supplies while Michonne checked the small bedrooms and the demolished bathroom. Bricks had fallen in it, blocking her from getting any supplies.

Carl checked the drawers to only find two bullets which matched his pistol and two candy bars. He smiled weakly before tucking the bullets in his gun and grabbing a large knife laying against the wooden, rotten table and stuffed it in his almost filled bag.

"Did you find anything?" Carl asked Michonne when he met her in the living room.

Michonne shook her head. "I guess you win."

Carl smirked in victory but frowned as soon as he opened his mouth to ask the question. "Why did you ask me about my night terrors."

Michonne sighed quietly. "Because your dad and I are worried about you. You scream every night and begged for someone to come, which I know was Wilmur now. But...you'd always refuse to even look at us when you wake up. We needed to figure out what was so bad about your nightmares. Now that we did, maybe we can help."

The young teen smiled weakly. "Hopefully, you can. But we need to worry about getting to Terminus. Wilmur will be there."

The samurai nodded, patting the teen on the shoulder. "Let's go. Your dad will be awake by now."

Carl nodded, following Michonne out of the demolished house and back into the dangerous woods. They kept their hands draped over their weapons in case any walkers had any surprises for them. They stepped over the symbols in the mud and over the logs with warnings on them written in a human's blood.

They killed a few walkers who got in their way as they traveled back to the tracks where Rick was taking down the wires with cans on it. Rick turned his head when he heard rustled footsteps and smiled when he realized it was Michonne and his son.

"How'd it go?" Rick asked. "Did you figure out what his nightmares were about?"

Michonne smiled, nodding. "It's what we thought it was."

Rick sighed as his eyes darted to his son who was handing him ammo for his pistol. He faked a smile and took the bullets, placing them in his pistol before taking the two large knives Carl had.

"Let's go." Rick said.

Carl and Michonne nodded, following behind Rick on the train tracks with their dirty hands draped over their weapons as they watched each step they took on the tracks. His eyes darted to Michonne who was walking just beside him. A small smile was plastered over her lips as she watched her steps on the tracks.

He smirked and pulled two candy bars out of his bag, handing them over to her. "I bet you I can balance on the train tracks without falling."

Michonne smirked as she narrowed her brown eyes, taking the candy bars and tucking them in her pocket "Oh, it's on. Whoever wins gets to choose which candy bar they want."

Carl narrowed his eyes as he and Michonne went to two different sides of the tracks and began walking on it with their arms held out to keep themselves from falling. Carl stumbled on the track metal as he struggled to keep himself on. A smile plastered across his lips as his mind was taken off the nightmares he had been having and put on the bet he made for Michonne.

Michonne struggled to stay on as well due to the heavy sword on her back. Her arm reached out to try to knock Carl off his tracks, but only caused herself to nearly stumble off. Carl giggled at her struggling to stay on before continuing to grin as he tried to stay on his tracks.

Sweat began to drip down their temples as they desperately tried to balance on the tracks. The sweat soaked into their shirts against the beaming sun now shining through the clouds, signaling that it was probably sometime around ten or eleven o'clock.

Unbeknownst to Rick, Michonne and Carl were far behind him due to walking slowly on the metal of the train tracks. Sweat was dripping down his temples and curly hair as the hot sun beamed down on him. He struggled to walk on his trembling legs due to the lack of food and water. He knew Carl and Michonne hadn't been able to collect any while they were on their run due to their bags being filled with weapons instead of food. They were lucky the air was cooler than most days.

"I think we got about a day about a day's worth of water left." Rick said, not knowing Carl and Michonne were far behind him. "We're lucky it's cooled off a little bit, but-"

Rick turned around when he noticed he didn't hear Michonne's or his son's rustling feet against the tracks behind him. He noticed they were balancing on the train track bars where the train's tires would roll on. Their arms were laying flat in the air as they desperately tried to balance themselves.

"What are you doin?" Rick asked, grinning.

"Winning a bet." Carl replied, giggling.

Michonne smirked in amusement. "In your dreams."

"I'm still on." Carl replied, smirking as he tried to knock Michonne off with his arm but only caused himself to stumble.

Michonne giggled mischievously. "You spoke too soon, wise guy."

Rick grinned, walking back toward Michonne and his son. "This might go on a while. Maybe we can speed this up."

"Yeah, you're right." Michonne agreed, trying to fight the smile off her lips. "We shouldn't be fooling around. We should probably-Carl!"

Michonne threw arms toward the young teen, hoping to scare him off. However, it only caused Michonne to stumble off the tracks, causing Carl to chuckle in victory as he smirked.

"I win." Carl said, holding his hand up toward Michonne so he could pick out a candy bar. "Pay up."

Michonne sighed, pulling out the two candy bars Carl gave to her to hold during the bet.

"Is that really the last Big Cat?" Carl asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He could've sworn he picked up more than one during the run. Slowly, he reached his hand up to pick one of the candy bars, grabbing the Big Cat.

"Oh, come on." Michonne whined, still smiling.

"Hey, but you said winner's choice." Carl smirked, taking the Big Cat while Michonne tucked the other candy bar back in her bag.

Michonne sighed. "Go ahead. Take it. It's yours. You won. Fair and square." She said, still whining.

Carl smiled, ripping open the wrapper and dropping it to the tracks before breaking it in half, handing the other half to Michonne before noticing her furrowed eyebrows. "Come on, we always share."

Michonne smiled, taking half the Big Cat, stuffing it in her mouth before following behind Rick again as they traveled across the tracks to Terminus. They didn't have much longer until they would finally be there. They could finally rest and get a decent sleep and actually get some food in their stomachs instead of desperately trying to hunt for it.

They weren't sure if they'd trust them right away, but Wilmur would be there. He could finally calm Carl through his night terrors again like he did back in the prison.

Little did they know, Wilmur, Daryl, and the Claimers were just a few miles behind them.

Wilmur's eyes fluttered open under the sound of the loud door of the building screeching open, interrupting him and Daryl from their uncomfortable sleep. They only managed to catch a couple or few hours of sleep due to how hard the floor was. Their necks had been slept on wrong and both of their backs hurt from the hard floor.

Black sags were visible under both of their eyes and their skin was pale from the lack of sleep. The back of their heads ached along with their necks and backs from sleeping on the hard floor with no soft blanket to lay on and no soft enough pillow to cover the back of their aching heads.

Wilmur groaned as he rubbed his painful neck while lifting himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chattering from the Claimers. His eyes darted to the blood on the floor left by Len. His fragile and bruised body was no longer there. Only his crimson blood was left behind as it stained against the floor.

He was still a bit shocked of what Joe did to one of his own group members. He understood why he hated the lies that came from Len, but that wasn't a reason to beat one of your own members from your own group who you fight to protect and keep safe. He didn't care that Len died because of the lies and insults, but he was a bit concerned about Joe beating up one of his own friends to death.

Daryl pushed himself off the hard floor, lending Wilmur a hand to help him up. Wilmur smiled weakly before taking his hand and letting himself get lift up before picking up the bag and wrapping it around his shoulder while Daryl picked up his crossbow. They followed the Claimers out of the building filled with cars and into the sun as it bristled against their skin.

He and Daryl looked below the concrete of the porch and over the bars to see Len's bloody and bruised body with an arrow shot in his head while the Claimers continued to walk ahead of them. He and Daryl stare at Len's body filled with blood and bruises as a spark of sympathy filled their blue eyes.

Neither of them cared about Len's death, but they cared about what Joe did to his own friend. Joe killed his own member and one of the only friends he had left on the planet. They understood why Joe was sick of the lies and insults escaping Len's throat everyday, but it wasn't an excuse to beat him to death.

Daryl picked up a white sheet filled with stained blood as he looked upon Len's fragile body filled with blood and bruises. He held it over him as he stared down at his body with sympathy.

"Daryl." Wilmur said, stopping his from throwing down the sheet over Len's dead body. "He's not worth it."

The archer sighed deeply before nodding in agreement and throwing the bloody sheet back down where he picked it up from. They kept their dirty hands draped over their weapons as they followed the Claimers. Joe stood behind the group to wait for Wilmur and Daryl as he watched the Claimers walk through the field with green grass toward the train tracks.

Wilmur stood beside Joe while Daryl stood on the other side of him, leaving Joe in the middle as they walked through the green field and toward the train tracks where the man the Claimers had been searching for had been traveling on. Wilmur gently grasped his black machete as he walked through the green field beside Joe who was drinking a little bit of liquor his eyes had been darted to.

Joe wasn't the leader who cared about the members in his group who were his friends he had been surviving with since the beginning. He was like the Governor who would kill one of his own if someone didn't follow his rules and Carol at the same time who would kill her own if she felt it was best for everyone else when it really wasn't.

Wilmur wasn't sure if he missed Carol or not. She killed two innocent people of her own because she thought it would do the prison the greater good, but it didn't because two of them died who was killed by one of their own just like Joe's group. The Claimers would kill one of their own members for the greater good of the group, but it wouldn't help or relieve anything.

However, Carol was the one who was determined to protect the prison after the terrifying war with the Governor ended. She helped everyone settle in and including himself. She took care of him and everyone in prison as the months past by. She protected every person in the prison and tried to help them grow stronger for the disgusting world.

"White Lightning. Easiest thing to make with the least amount of supplies." Joe's voice rang in Wilmur's ears, causing him to snap out of his thoughts to see Joe handing some liquor over to Daryl. "I'd start slow if I was you. Your stomach's probably emptier than you think."

Daryl took a few sips of the liquor before handing it back to Joe. "I ain't been lit at dawn since before everything fell apart."

"Fell apart. I never looked at it like that." Joe replied, handing Wilmur some of the liquor but he rejected it. "Seems to me like things are finally starting to fall together. At least for guys like us. Living like this, surviving. We've doin' this from the start, right?"

Wilmur and Daryl decided to ignore the question and make their way toward the tracks with a sign on it. Wilmur kept his hand draped over his machete in his belt as he rushed to the sign the Claimers were looking at. It was a sanctuary sign with a map on it which said to follow the tracks until they reach the sanctuary.

Sanctuary for all Community for all Those who arrive survive Terminus

A tiny smile snuck it's way on Wilmur's chapped lips as he stared upon the Terminus sign and chuckled in joy. Terminus would lead him straight to Carl. He knew Carl would be heading there, and he had to follow him. If he followed the tracks to Terminus, he would finally be with him again after such a long time.

Terminus was the biggest clue he had came across during the entire time on the road. It would lead him straight to his lover whether there really was sanctuary or not. The Terminus sign pointed straight to Carl. To the one person he loved more than anyone and anything else on the entire planet.

"Daryl, look." Wilmur smiled, tears of joy filling his eyes.

The archer looked at the Terminus sign before turning to Joe. "You seen this before?"

"Oh, yeah." Joe replied. "I'll tell you what it is. It's a lie. Ain't no sanctuary for all. Ain't gonna welcome guys like you and me with open arms."

"My boyfriend will be going there." Wilmur said, turning to glare at Joe. "I'm going."

Joe walked ahead of him, leading the Claimers. "I didn't say we weren't goin'. That man we've searching for might be heading there."

Wilmur scoffed, following behind Daryl and Joe as they traveled on the tracks. He rushed ahead of them as he stared ahead of the tracks where they would eventually lead to not only Terminus but to his lover as well.

Tears of joy spilled over his dirty cheeks as he rushed ahead of Daryl and the Claimers. He could finally be with Carl again after such a long time of searching for him. He would no longer have to track but instead follow the tracks which would lead to Terminus where Carl would be. In just a few days, depending on how far Terminus was, he could finally be with Carl again.

He could finally be in Carl's arms again. They could finally have their soft and warm lips pressed against each other's instead of dreaming about it or imagining it. Carl could be held in his arms again with their gentle breaths brushing against each other's cheeks and hair.

Wilmur cried tears of joy as he took off sprinting with Daryl and the Claimers struggling to keep up behind him while he ran against the tracks that would lead to his beautiful lover.

Little did he know, he was not so far behind Carl. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Crimson Whispering Rocks

Wilmur had his arms wrapped around Carl's slim form as they kissed and cuddled in the prison fields. Carl had his head rested against Wilmur's shoulder with his soft lips gently presses soft kisses across it. Wilmur rubbed soothing circles on Carl's back through his denim jacket as they cuddled warmly.

The soft breeze gently brushed against their cheeks as their skin shivered. The grey clouds in the lifeless sky grumbled as the sky was colored grey. Drizzling rain drizzled upon their cheeks as it bristled from the lifeless sky. Tiny rain droplets were formed on their jackets as the drizzling rain dropped on them.

Carl's night terrors were finally all over after such a long time of sleeping with worry spreading through them. They could finally relax and enjoy their mornings, afternoons, and evenings. Instead of sitting on the bunker bed all day with their arms wrapped around each other to keep them calm, they can finally have a special moment without any tears.

The younger lover rolled on top of the older with their lips pressed together and their tongues battling as the passion and tenderness ran throughout their veins filled with desire. Wilmur gripped onto Carl's hips to hold him in place as their kiss filled with passion kept growing less innocent.

Droplets of rain bristled in Carl's hair as the rain gently drizzled on his rosy cheeks. Wilmur found it as one of the most beautiful sights he's ever saw in the entire world. The tiny rain droplets sparkled in his eyes. His lips were swollen from the passionate kiss as the tiny rain droplets dripped down them.

"You got really beautiful eyes." Carl complimented him. "Their so crystal blue if you know what I mean."

Wilmur smiled and shook his head as he stroked Carl's soft lips, getting lost in his light blue eyes which sparkled against the rain. "No. You do. They always sparkle."

Carl smiled before capturing Wilmur's warm and soft lips, quickly slipping his tongue inside and battling with his. Wilmur's soft hands slip under Carl's shirt and traveled up his smooth skin. Carl moved his lips to Wilmur's neck, nibbling it gently like how Wilmur taught him. Wilmur moaned in pleasure before grabbing Carl's head gently and pushing his warm lips back toward his.

They flinched and broke apart their lips when they heard the thunder growl in the clouds. The older and younger lover fall to the wet grass, laughing as their arms wrapped around each other again. Their lips brushed together as their sweet breaths breathed onto each other's cheeks with drizzling rain trailing down them.

An engine from a car interrupted their special moment. The two lovers sighed before quickly getting up and rushing to the gate where a black car was sitting outside the fences of the prison, waiting for the orange gate to open.

Rick, Maggie, and Glenn had came back from their run. Lot's of dust and grime were printed over the black car along the windows with some blood hovering over the tires. Through the windows, they could see fresh blood staining their fresh cloths along with some mud, dirt, and dripping sweat.

Wilmur helped Carl open the orange gate by pulling down the stubborn rope while another man on the other side opened the other fence for them. The black, dusty car drove past the fences just before they closed it. They watched as Maggie and Glenn greeted Hershel as they held hands while Rick made their way over to them.

"Any trouble?" Rick asked them.

"No." Carl replied before Wilmur could answer, noticing the fresh blood on his brown shirt. "You had some."

"Yeah." Rick sighed. "A little."

Wilmur smiled weakly before wrapped his strong arm around Carl's waist, pulling him close before walking back toward the field together with the rain drizzling on their cheeks and jackets. The chilly air past their cheeks as it brushed against the jackets covering their shivering skin. They sat back down in the middle of the yellow field together before wrapping their arms around each other.

Carl smiled and pecked his lips against Wilmur's cheeks wet from the drizzling rain. They giggled before pressing their soft and warm lips against their wet cheeks as the rain began to pour down. They simply ignored it and continued to kiss upon the smooth skin and soft lips while they wrapped each other in an embrace.

Carl stirred awake from another nightmare before fluttering his eyes open to greet the sunlight shining through the leafs laying against the brown and dead branches of the trees. Some tears were staining his cheeks while some quiet sobs were escaping his chapped lips. His tearful eyes darted to Rick who was sleeping beside him and then to Michonne who was sleeping across them.

He sighed before rubbing his drooping eyes and lifting himself up on his elbows, causing the branches and dead leafs to crackle. Rick and Michonne immediately stirred awake from the crackling sounds to see Carl awake with stained tears on his cheeks. Michonne sighed groggily before crawling toward Carl, wiping the tears from his dirty cheeks.

"You okay?" She asked, whispering so she wouldn't attract any walkers.

Carl closed his eyes before nodding slowly, crossing his arms and rubbing them for warmth. Michonne reached in the bag which was almost empty for the blue jacket before handing it to Carl, helping him put himself in the warm jacket while he put on his sheriff hat.

Carl zipped the jacket up before helping his father start a fire against the branches for the food they created a trap somewhere in the woods for. The smoke filled the air as the fire sparked against the wood. They picked up their sticks to fry in the burning fire before placing them in it as they listened to the birds chirping and singing in the trees.

"How hungry are you, scale one to ten?" Rick asked them.

The young teen listened to his stomach growl loudly for food. Neither of them had eaten in weeks despite the Big Kat they shared the other day. It wasn't enough and only made them starve more. They had been hunting the woods for any type of food for weeks, but they could hardly find any.

"Fifteen." Car replied, frying his thick stick in the fire.

Rick nodded before darting his head to Michonne who had her sword sitting just behind her along with some cans they didn't need to tie to the wires of their small camp in the middle of the woods.

"Twenty-eight." Michonne replied, frying her stick in the fire as well.

Rick chuckled, turning his attention back to his frying stick before pulling it out of the fire. "Yeah, it's been a while. I'm gonna go check the snares."

Carl pulled his frying, burning stick out of the fire before blowing on it to blow the burning flames away. "Can I go with you?" He asked.

Rick chuckled quietly. "Well, how else are you gonna learn?"

Carl smiled, placing his burning stick against the leafs on the ground before helping his father brush the burning fire out.

Rick's tired eyes darted to Michonne who was still frying her stick. "Hey, you, too." He told the samurai.

Michonne sighed before pulling her frying stick out of the fire and wrapping her sword around her back, following Rick and Carl out of the camp protected by wires and cans. They pushed their way through the branches and leafs as they traveled toward the snares with no walkers interrupting them.

Squirrels nibbled on their nuts as they cautiously watched them walk by while the birds tweeted in the trees. Rabbits rushed in the bushes while groundhogs hid in their holes. Ants and worms crawled under the leafs as they searched for any food they could find on the ground while woodpeckers pecked against the bark on the trees.

There was plenty of animals for them to hunt for, but they either ran or flew off. It was nearly impossible for them to hunt an animal even with the traps and snares. Hardly anything got caught in their traps and if there was, it was too small for either of them to eat.

They made their way down a trail while their eyes scanned for any animal they could hunt on the trail or in the trees. Their stomachs growled for food while their dry tongues screamed for water. They hardly found anything to eat or drink the past few weeks. Barely any water was left in their bag for all of them to share.

Carl was tired of traveling on the road, sprinting every single day from walker herds every time he awoke from a horrifying night terror with no food or water waiting for him in the morning. He just wanted to get to Terminus, get some food and water, and relax with Wilmur so his night terrors could finally disappear.

All three of them were exhausted. They awoke every night from Carl screaming in his sleep, attracting hundreds of herds of walkers for them to run from. Their exhaustion had only gotten worse due to the lack of food, water, sleep, and rest. They wanted to get to Terminus as fast as they could, but they had to take it slow so they wouldn't run into any more trouble.

"We'll stay another day or two." Rick said, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. "Get some more rest."

"Finish healing up?" Michonne questioned after noticing the healing bruises on his cheeks while her stomach growled from starvation.

"I'm almost there." Rick replied.

A small, few seconds of silence fell between them besides their grumbling stomachs. They were starving nearly to death and dyhration was only causing them to slow down with exhaustion. They were frustrated and desperately wanted to get to Terminus.

Carl especially was desperately wanting to get to Terminus as fast as they could. He needed food in his starving stomach with water on his tongue. He needed Wilmur to calm his night terrors down again so they could finally relax together instead of sitting in fear everyday. They need a normal life to live somewhere.

"We're close now, right?" Carl asked, his stomach growling for food as he forced the frustration out of his voice.

"To Terminus?" Rick questioned.

Carl nodded as his stomach grumbled louder. "Yeah."

"We are." Rick replied.

A small second of silence fell between them again as they tucked their chilly hands in their jacket pockets. Their visions were slightly blurring from the lack of food, water, and rest as they stared blankly ahead.

Carl thought of the dark things they've been put through. He could visibly remember every scene and detail from the violent and bloody war they had with the Governor just like he could remember how he completely tore down their home they fought to protect for so long. Everyone they loved had either died or was separated from them.

"When we get there, are we gonna tell them?" Carl asked.

Michonne furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Tell them what?"

"Everything that's happened to us." Carl replied. "All the stuff we've done. Are we gonna tell them the truth?"

Rick shrugged. "We're gonna tell them who we are."

"But how do you say that?" Carl asked. "I mean...who are we?"

Before Rick could answer, walker snarls rang out of the trees in the forest. They stepped out and growled as they approached them, their arms held out for their fresh flesh upon their skin. Rick and Carl pulled their pistols out of their holsters wrapped around their legs while Michonne pulled out her sword as they approached the walkers.

Michonne was the first one to take the kill with Carl being the second. They brutally smashed their weapons in their soft skulls before killing their brain as they headed for the next walker. Rick shoved two of the walkers against a sharp branch of one of the trees as it tore it's stomach opened.

Carl smashed the barrel of his pistol against one of the walkers head before slamming it against a tree to demolish it's soft skull. He quickly gripped onto one of the walkers hair while he kept it's sharp teeth from chomping in his face. Michonne quickly slashed the walker's head off with her sword before they rushed over to Rick.

One last walker came out from behind a tree and snarled upon seeing their flesh. Michonne chopped it's head off before wrapping her sword back on her back. Rick and Carl nodded before placing their pistols back in their holsters after scanning their eyes on the walkers dead bodies to make sure they were all dead.

Michonne and Carl followed after Rick as he lead them to the snares with a dead rabbit in it. It had got ran right into the tricky trap Rick had made so no animal could happen to pass by a simple trail. Their stomachs growled as soon as they saw the first food they've seen in weeks. A tiny smile snuck on all of their chapped lips as they quickly rushed over to the hunted food.

"There you go." Rick said, ignoring his growling stomach as he bent down to pull the tiny, dead rabbit out of the trap. "It's a small one. It'll do."

Carl eyes darted to Michonne with a smile on his face upon victory of finally finding food all three of them could share. He looked back at his father as he prepared the trap lesson. His father had taught him a lot of survival skills on the road which he could use in the future. All of the survival skills had became extremely useful to him on the road.

Such as climbing trees when running from herds and creating traps even for the most smallest animals had became very useful. It all helped him survive the long weeks on the devasting and frustrating road. If it wasn't for his father, he wouldn't be there. He was very grateful to have Rick teach him the high survival skills and instincts.

He still regretted what he said to him a month ago. He said he didn't need him and would survive perfectly fine without him, but that wasn't true. If it wasn't for his father, he wouldn't be there at all. He could be one of the walkers or one of the people who just laid dead on the ground because someone ended their life.

Carl's eyes darted to the knot his father had made in the trap to catch an animal. The knot looked simple but it looked complicated to do. He watched as Rick untied the knot and prepare to tie it again to show him how to make the trap.

"So, this is just a simple slipknot." Rick said, preparing to show his son how to tie the knot to make the animal trap. "Tie one on both ends, then you tighten one side to a branch. Now, you see how the ground here is sort of like a funnel shape?"

"It's a trail?" Carl questioned.

Rick nodded. "That's right. That's where you want to set the noose. So you hide it with leafs. Then you put sticks all around it so any animals going by have to run this way right into the trap."

Carl nodded, smiling as he stared upon the new trap his father had just taught him how to make. Maybe when they got to Terminus, he could set traps in the woods for hunted food to help decrease the famine most likely going around the sanctuary. He wanted to do something useful with his time instead relaxing a little too much like they did at the prison.

Suddenly, they heard a man screaming and yelling for help. Carl immediately jumped onto his feet and ran toward the screaming man without thinking as he pulled his pistol out of his holster with his father yelling for him to stop. He rushed through the woods as he listened to the man's screams increase and shriek louder.

Rick and Michonne rushed after the young teen as they called for him to stop with their weapons held in their hands. Carl simply ignored the calls and continued to sprint for the screaming man as walker snarls began to echo in his ears.

Carl could see the man screaming and begging for help with a walker herd surrounding him. He aimed his pistol toward one of the walkers but is yanked back by his father. He desperately tried to fight against his father's tight grip, but failed.

"We can't help him." Rick whispered in his ear as Carl struggled to fight against his tight grip.

Carl watched with sympathy as the man begging and screaming for help got devoured by the herd of walkers. Their sharp teeth ripped into his flesh and teared it from his skin as he screamed and cried in pain. Blood splattered against the green grass and colored it crimson red while some of the blood hovered over the walkers yellow teeth.

The man begged for his life as the walkers ripped his flesh off his skin while pushing him to the ground. All the walkers gathered around the man who had just died and continued to tear his flesh apart.

Suddenly, the walkers turned their heads and snarled at the alive flesh they saw standing before them. They struggled to stand back up as they slowly made their way over to them.

"We've got to go." Michonne whispered.

Rick nodded and tried to pull his son to run with him, but he refused to move. The father growled quietly in effort before yanking his son along with him. They ran just behind Michonne as the walker herd followed them out of the woods. They brutally smashed each walker against a branch that had suddenly jumped in their way as they ran toward the tracks.

Carl was shoved just ahead of Rick in effort to protect him from the walker herd while Michonne rushed ahead to guide them along the tracks. The walkers followed them out of the forest and chased them slowly on the tracks just behind them.

More walkers along the tracks blocked them from sprinting any further. They had been gathering around more flesh left on the dead human skin as they tore it apart with their sharp, bloody teeth. They lifted their heads and growled as soon as they saw their flesh sitting upon their skin.

Rick quickly rushed ahead and brutally smashed the walkers skulls with the end of his pistol. Carl pulled his long gun he found on the run with Michonne and rushed behind his father while Michonne unwrapped her sword from behind her back. Carl shoved the tip of his long gun into through the walkers skulls before kicking them to the ground.

The walker herd behind them approached them quickly while they killed the other walkers in front of them. Blood splattered out of their heads as they stuck the end of their weapons through their brains.

"Let's go." Rick said, noticing the walker herd approaching them from behind.

The young teen rushed behind the father and samurai with his long gun held in his hand as the walker herd chased them down from behind. They sprinted along the tracks as more walkers popped out of the woods. They shoved the walkers out of the way and shoved the tip of their guns through their skulls.

They rushed into the woods with hundreds of little animals rushing passed them. Birds flew out of the trees as they shrieked after they noticed the walker herd stumbling through their territory. Some of the walkers in the herd had wandered off when they noticed an animal sprinting passed them.

Rick shoved his son ahead in effort to protect him from the stumbling herd which was slowly starting to break apart when they noticed the animals. A few walkers suddenly came in front of them before approaching when they saw their fresh flesh. Carl smashed the tip of his long gun against their skulls before sprinting ahead.

Michonne gravitated near Carl as she rushed just behind him to protect him while Rick focused on the walker herd slowly breaking apart. Some of them had grown too close, leaving him no choice but to smash his pistol against their skulls. The walkers growled as they approached Rick with their arms reaching out for his flesh.

He smashed his pistol against their soft skulls before rushing ahead just behind Carl and Michonne. He kept his hand on his son's lower back as he shoved him ahead to protect him. They kept sprinting deeper into the woods as the walker herd broke apart to chase after the tiny animals.

Finally, they stopped sprinting due to the aching in their sore legs. They panted as they placed their sweaty palms over their trembling knees with their heads bowed down. Sweat dripped down from their hair and temples as it soaked into their shirts and jackets. Their damp shirts hiding under their jackets clinged to the sweat on their skin as they felt their breath hitch from panting.

They collapse on their buckling knees from the aching and the trembling in their legs as they panted with their faces pointing toward the sky blocked by leafs and branches on the trees. Their fingers and hands shook from the panting and their legs trembled from the aching in running too fast for too long.

However, Carl ignored the aching in his sore legs and forced himself to stand up. Huffs of frustration escaped his dry throat as he forced his legs to keep standing. They needed to keep going no matter how tired and exhausted they were. If they were going to get to Terminus, then they needed to do everything they could to get to it.

Rick and Michonne sighed before slowly pushing their tired and aching bodies back up. Michonne wrapped her sword on her back while Rick tucked his pistol back in his holster. Carl sighed before doing the same with his long gun as he followed after his father.

"Carl and I will check down at those tracks. See if there's any place we can rest down there." Rick said, pointing to the tracks below the hill before turning to Michonne. "Do you mind if you stay up and here and see if there's anything we can use."

Michonne smiled weakly before nodding, gently grasping her sword on her back as she wandered deeper into the woods. Carl watched her as she disappeared behind the trees before following his father down to the tracks.

The young teen kept his chilly hands tucked in the pockets of his blue jackets as he walked just beside the father. His blue eyes were darted to the tracks as he watched his feet take each step. He could still hear the man screaming in pain as he begged for help while the walkers tore his flesh apart.

Carl remembered how his father used to help anybody who ever called for help in the beginning. It didn't matter how bad of a person they were. He still decided to help them. But now his father had changed. He wasn't as willing to help anybody in anymore if it came to protecting his group or loved ones.

It was just like when he left the man with the man with the orange backpack behind seven or eight months ago. The man had been begging for help and screamed for them to stop their car when they drove passed him. However, Rick wouldn't listen. He simply let Michonne keep driving passed the man.

"Hey, Dad?" Carl said, grabbing his father's attention.

"Yeah?" Rick replied with a tired tone in his hoarse voice.

"When we heard the guy scream, why didn't you go help?"

Rick took a moment to think as he recalled the man begging for help and screaming in pain when the walkers teeth sunk into his flesh while they ripped him apart. If it came to his family or anyone he loved at all, Rick wouldn't help anyone. He wouldn't put his family's life in danger just for a man who was begging for help. He refused to put some stranger before his family again.

"Dad." Carl said when his father didn't answer.

"I might've done that before." Rick replied.

Carl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Before what?"

"Before we were out here." Rick replied. "I want you to be safe, Carl. Above everything else. Above everyone else. You understand?"

Carl bowed his head to the ground as his father's words sank into his head. "I guess so." He mummered.

"You didn't think about it. You just did it. That's who you are." Rick said, hoping to make his son feel better. "Carl, you're a man. You're a good man. Your mom would be proud. Wilmur would be proud. I'm proud."

His father's words sunk into his head as each one slowly cracked his broken heart. The lecture he had just given him wasn't true at all. He had done terrible and unforgivable things in his dark past. Some of them he even liked and was proud that he did it when he shouldn't be. How could he be a good man? How could his boyfriend, father, and mother be proud of who he is?

"But I didn't like it." Rick continued, stopping his tracks to look his son in the eyes seriously. "You gotta be careful out here. More careful than before."

"Hey!" Michonne's voice called at them from above, interrupting their serious conversation. "There's a deer trail up ahead! It connects to a road!"

Rick nodded before helping his son climb back up the hill. He kept his hand draped over his lower back as he pushed him up the steep hill in Michonne's direction. Carl grabbed each branch he could find like how his father taught him how to climb trees a while back. As soon as he could reach Michonne, she helped him pull himself up before doing the same with Rick.

They draped their hands over their weapons in case any walkers gave them surprises as they followed the deer trail. They watched as a few animals ran into the trees or back into their holes in fear upon seeing them. They shoved the sharp branches out of the way as they made their way over to the road Michonne had been talking about.

Rick's untruthful words kept repeating over and over in Carl's head as he followed Michonne and his father on the deer trail which would lead to the road. The darkness inside him was something no one should be proud about. He had done monstrous things which caused nothing but horror and regret. He wasn't a good man to the darkness of his horrific heart inside him.

Carl flinched when his foot didn't step on another crackling branch or dead leaf but instead the concrete of a road. The road was filled with fresh leafs with it's color slowly fading away. Tiny rocks laid against the road under the fresh leafs while it cracked as their shoes stepped upon them.

They marched on the road as they stared ahead to see a dirty car covered with grime and dust. Leafs hovered over the surface of the car while some others fell between the dead tires.

"Thought maybe there'd be some houses down this way." Michonne panted as her empty stomach growled for food. "Maybe even a store. There's got to be some food around her somewhere."

Carl squinted his eyes at the blue car ahead of them as his stomach grumbled from starvation. "Hey, look." He said.

They squinted their eyes at the car as they pulled their weapons into the tight grip in their trembling fists while they carefully made their way over to the empty, blue car. Rick and Carl checked the car for any food, weapons, ammo, or walkers while Michonne took care of a walker on the side of the road.

A rotten and disgusting scent filled Rick and Carl's nostrils as soon as they opened the car doors. They gagged at the nasty smell before covering their noses to keep the smell from getting in any longer. Stained blood was stained against the seats and floors of the car with a little bit of skeleton fragments laying right above it.

Pockets laying against the back of the car seats was filled with tiny fragments of skeleton along with a few work papers laying beside children books. No ammo or weapons were hiding anywhere in the dirty car filled with dust and stained blood. Rotten food was hidden in the floor of the front seat as flies and ants crawled over it.

They checked the trunk to see if any walkers, food, or ammo had been hiding in it. Nothing but suitcases filled with cloths and broken electronics were hiding in the trunk. Rick shut and locked it with the keys he found in the car while Carl gravitated near Michonne with his pistol tucked back in his holster.

His stomach growled for food to satisfy his starvation while his dyhrated tongue screamed for water. He placed a hand over his stomach as he moaned and panted from the lack of food. He placed his sweaty palms over his trembling knees with his head bowed down as he panted from his starvation and exhaustion.

"You okay?" Michonne asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Carl forced himself to stand up straight before nodding while his stomach grumbled. "I'm fine. Just hungry and tired."

"We all are." Michonne replied, rubbing his shoulder soothingly with her thumb. "That's why we're staying here for today and maybe tomorrow."

The young teen wiped his nose before nodding in agreement. He wiped his hands on his pants in effort to get rid of the blood, dirt, and sweat while he panted in exhaustion. Rick stood next to Michonne and in front of Carl while he wiped the blood and dirt off his sweaty hands.

"I'm gonna go get some wood for the fire." Rick said, rubbing his shivering hands together for warmth. "Y'all stay here."

Michonne was quick to grab strong arm to stop him. "No, Carl and I will go. You still have healing to do."

"You've been saying that since you and Carl went on that run right after the prison fell." Rick said, shaking his head with a small smile on his lips which was covered by his beard.

Michonne chuckled in amusement. "Yeah, but you need to heal if you wanna be strong. Just rest. Carl and I will handle this."

Rick sighed in defeat before nodding in agreement. He handed Michonne a small pistol before patting his son on the back. Michonne tucked the pistol in her belt before motioning Carl to follow her in the dangerous woods.

Rick watched as the mother-and-son like figure disappeared in the forest on the side of the road. Michonne was truly there for Carl more than he ever was in his entire life. He trusted her to protect him and help him feel better when something was wrong or figure out what's bothering him if he was bothered by something.

Michonne was like another mother to Carl.

Wilmur yawned as he awoke with the bright sunlight shining through the bar windows and into their white curtains. His arms were wrapped around Carl's slender form. Carl's eyes were gently closed unlike the times he had night terrors. His night terrors had been gone for a few weeks now, but was bound to come back.

Sleeping together had completely helped Carl. It eased his night terrors and soothed his tears when he woke up wailing from one. Everything had gotten better for them both. It was nice for them to sleep together without a nightmare interrupting it.

As if sensing Wilmur was awake, Carl turned his body so he was facing him and buried his face in his chest. Wilmur smiled before placing a gentle kiss against his soft hair and stroking it. He buried his face in Carl's neck and left gentle kisses against it. Carl smiled in his sleep as he felt the pleasurable, tiny kisses sprinkled on his neck.

Wilmur placed a gentle and warm kiss against Carl's soft lips before pulling himself off the cover. He draped blankets over Carl's now shivering body since his warmth left him. He sat on one of the chairs and put on his tennis shoes, tying the laces before walking out of the cell.

Beth smiled upon Wilmur's appearance while she bumped Judith. "Morning."

"Morning." Wilmur replied with a groggily voice, rubbing his eyes to rub the sleepiness out. "Where's Hershel?"

"Out with Rick." Beth replied, placing a baby bottle in Judith's mouth before gently feeding her. "Is Carl awake?"

Wilmur shook his head, laying against the wall before beginning to eat his cereal that Beth had given him His eyes darted to the morning light shining through the bar windows. His crystal blue eyes bristled in the glistening sunlight as it shined against his pale cheeks.

His bristling eyes darted to the cell Carl was sleeping in to see his relaxed eyes with his damp, brown hair draped over his rosy cheeks and forehead. The peaceful sight was the most adorable and beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life.

Words couldn't even describe how lucky Wilmur was to find Carl. Ever since Penny died, he had shut down and threw everything and everyone he ever cared about in his entire life away. He slammed Justin into his broken heart and shattered it to pieces until there was no feelings or emotions left or scared anywhere.

Yet somehow he still managed to find love and strong desire. Even though every single one of his feelings were all gone and his heart became numb, he was still able to find someone to truly love and care about.

Carl was able to bring him back from all the anger and rage inside Justin's heart. He was able to show him love and care in a world filled with hate and cruelness.

"Slow down!" Joe called from behind Wilmur who was sprinting as they desperately tried to keep up with him.

However, Wilmur simply ignored him and sprinted faster along the tracks which would lead to not only Terminus but Carl as well. His fists were clenching to backpack straps held on his back tightly as he sprinted faster and faster like he was a tiger running after it's prey. His breath was hitched from panting and his legs were aching from sprinting far too fast for way too long. Sweat was dripping down his wet temples and his black hair as the hot sun beamed down on him while he ran.

Daryl and the Claimers struggled to keep up with him the faster he ran in the hot heat. Pounds of sweat was insanely dripping down their temples and hair as it soaked into their skin and shirts. Their hips were hurting from running too fast for too long and their legs screamed as it ached while sweat soaked into their pants and shirts, staining it.

Wilmur jumped over a dead body lying in the middle of the tracks before sprinting even faster, ignoring his aching legs and his sore feet. Joe and Daryl had been calling for him to stop or slow down, but he ignored them and sprinted faster. They could all swore they were going to pass out from dyhration as the hot sun beamed down on their sweating skin.

"Slow down just a little, fella!" Joe called from behind him. "We need to rest!"

Wilmur stopped sprinting before turning to Joe to glare at him, struggling to breathe as he stood still. "Don't you want to get to that man who killed Lou as fast as you can? Wouldn't resting slow us down?"

"We're gonna find this fella." Joe replied, panting as he placed his machine gun against the tracks on the ground. "Whether we rest or not, we'll find him. I know we will. Same with your boyfriend."

Wilmur continued to glare as his fists clenched so tightly that his sweaty palms covered with stained blood were turning purple. He gritted his teeth as he desperately tried to keep his growls from escaping his dry throat.

"Let's just rest for a little while, okay?" Daryl said, hoping it would get his ex-son to agree. "We've been running since sunrise. I know you're tired."

Wilmur softened his glare before sighing, his clenching fists untightening as his anger and frustration calmed down. Slowly, he gave his head a fast nod before throwing his backpack on the ground. The Claimers sighed with relief before dropping their weapons and bags to the ground and falling to it.

Wilmur refused to sit down as he began to take watch. His tired eyes darted to the sun peaking through the green leafs on the silent trees through the fields on the side of the tracks. His aching legs trembled as he struggled to keep standing while his palm shook against the handle of his pistol in his holster wrapped around his leg.

His eyes stared blankly ahead of the tracks which would lead to Carl in Terminus. He wasn't sure if he trusted the sanctuary but he also wasn't sure if he cared or not. All he cared about was finding Carl. It didn't matter if Terminus was real or not because it would lead both of them back to each other.

It was why Wilmur was desperately trying to get to Terminus as fast as he could. Terminus was the direct way toward each other. It was the only big clue they had since the prison fell.

Daryl's hand being placed over Wilmur's shoulder was enough to make Wilmur flinch. He quickly yanked his pistol out of his holster by reflex before pointing it at Daryl, clicking the safety off. He lowered it when he realized it was just his ex-adoptive father and placed it back in his holster.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, his voice hoarse from panting and running too much.

"I'm fine." Wilmur answered, turning around and crossing his arms as he stared ahead of the tracks. "Just tired."

Daryl softened his drooping eyes, draping his sweaty palm over his sweating forehead to block the hot sun from beating down on him any longer. "Then rest. I'll take watch."

Wilmur immediately shook his head after the offer. "No. I'll rest when I find Carl."

"We basically already found him." Daryl stated. "He's goin' to Terminus. It doesn't matter how fast we get there."

The young teen sighed with his trembling breath as he gave his head a shake. He couldn't rest until he found Carl. Once he found Carl, he'll finally rest before doing anything else. Carl would be his only reason to finally relax. He would tuck the violence, blood, and gore away while he rested with Carl.

Although Terminus could likely be an untrustworthy place, it was the only path to lead to Carl. All he and Daryl had to do was follow the tracks until they led to Carl in Terminus. He was just desperate to find Carl and give all the violence a rest while he relaxed with Carl. His frustration was angering him to the tip of the edge as the famine and fear on the road grew more and more every single day without knowing anyone he loved was alive.

Ever since the prison fell, everyone's fates were left unknown. It frustrated him to know everyone he loved was most likely dead or by themselves alone somewhere while he desperately was trying to survive through the famine, fear, countless walkers, and dangerous people. Neither of them could relax without being next to each other with violence surrounding them everywhere they went.

"I just want to get to him as fast as I can." Wilmur said, sighing as his pants slowly began to calm down. "We were in the prison for so long. Even though I was out on runs everyday, we still never left each other's side. But now we're not together, and it's...it's just hard to explain. Like...I don't like feeling like this."

Daryl nodded after understanding exactly what Wilmur meant. They were both tired of running everyday without any breath takers or rests while being without the ones they loved at the same time. Not only physical emptiness inside their stomachs from starvation and tongues from dyhration, but also their loved ones not being with them as well.

"Hey." Daryl said, catching Wilmur's attention again. "We're very close. We don't got that much longer. In just a couple days, all this will be over if that place is still standing."

"Terminus doesn't make the violence over." Wilmur replied. "Carl will. I'll relax when he's in my sight."

Daryl nodded, patting Wilmur on the shoulder. "You need to get all the rest you can get anyway. You needa heal."

"I will when I'm with Carl." Wilmur argued.

"No." Daryl replied. "When you find Carl, you'll have a job to protect him. Get all the rest ya can get right now."

Wilmur shrugged Daryl's dirty, rough hand away from his shoulder before crossing his arms which were covered with bruises under his grey flannel from the car that had hit him a week ago or from his father beating him nearly to death a month ago. His bruises were growing a lighter pink color everyday from healing and his deep cuts were slowly creating scars. Some of his ribcages which were either broken or damaged by his father or the car that had ran over him was slowly healing the cracks they made. His two broken fingers had almost completely recovered along with his sprained ankle.

Wilmur's tired eyes darted to Daryl who was staring blankly at the bruises and cuts plastered over his cheeks. Stained blood was covering almost his entire grey flannel along with his bare hands and cheeks. His two broken, yet recovering fingers were a little swollen along with his sprained ankle.

"Fine. I'll rest." Wilmur sighed in defeat, laying on the ground before placing his head over his backpack with his hand draped over his starving stomach.

Daryl pulled out a few pecans out of his pocket before placing them in Wilmur's palm. He had noticed how skinny Wilmur was growing from starvation and how his stomach growled loudly for food every minute. Wilmur hesitated before accepting the two pecans, stuffing them in his mouth after cracking them open.

Joe gravitated near Wilmur before sitting down beside him, keeping the same mischievous smile over his lips as he chuckled. Wilmur draped his hand over his black machete in his belt as soon as Joe sat beside him.

Wilmur still didn't trust Joe. He still thought there was an evil darkness lurking behind Joe and the Claimers mischievous eyes. There was something to them Wilmur and Daryl just didn't get. Something inside the Claimers triggered a kind of mischievous evilness. Despite helping them to find Carl, their instincts told them not to trust the evil group filled with men.

"You okay?" Joe asked him, still chuckling.

Wilmur sighed deeply in annoyance as he clenched his black machete tightly to control his anger and frustration. Joe's annoying presence irritated him slightly due to the man's secret evil and mischievousness. Each chuckle that escaped Joe's throat only made him more anger and frustrated.

Nothing in the world was funny at all anymore. They weren't in a shelter where they could have enough food, water, and weapons to last them through the day while they laughed and joked around. Instead they were in the middle of nowhere with no shelter, food, water, or enough ammo while they desperately tried to search for loved and hated ones as they survived.

"Yeah. I'm totally fine." Wilmur scoffed with sarcasm in his tone.

Joe chuckled before pulling out a water bottle with barely any water left in it. His hands trembled from starvation as he handed it to the young, starving and thirsty teen.

Wilmur shook his head, pushing the water bottle away with his trembling hands. "I'm fine."

"No you're not." Joe replied, handing the water bottle to him again.

Wilmur sighed deeply before grabbing the water bottle, hesitating while doing so. He shakily pulled the lid off it before taking a few tiny sips, but it wasn't enough to control his thirst. However, it was enough to make him yearn for so much more. He hadn't eaten anything in weeks or drank anything for a long time.

Survival had only gotten harder for him and Daryl. Since they were with a group with selfish rules, it only made it harder. Every time they found food even though it wasn't enough, one of the Claimers would claim it before they could get to it. Len's death didn't make survival any easier despite the insults which came from him.

Wilmur slowly withdrew the water bottle from his dry mouth before handing it back to Joe while he wiped his mouth. He rubbed the sleepiness from his tired eyes as the sweat clinging to his black hair dripped onto his eyelids. Dried blood was staining his eyelashes and cloths while coloring his cheeks. Dirt and blood was all over his skin and cloths with only more coming every single day.

He was tired of feeling too dirty, filthy, and nasty. He hadn't showered since the prison fell and there was hardly any river to bathe himself in. It was either too shallow or too dirty. Walkers and dead frogs would be hiding under big rocks. Leafs from the dead trees would be landing against it.

"So what are you goin' to do when you find your boyfriend?" Joe questioned.

Wilmur shot Joe a glare through his droopy eyes as his fist clenched his machete while his anger and frustration grew. "What do you mean?"

"You, Daryl, and your boyfriend are gonna need a group." Joe answered. "Whether y'all go to Terminus or not, y'all will need a group. Everyone does nowadays."

"Well, we don't." Wilmur replied. "You can't survive without people, but it doesn't have to be a group. As long as my boyfriend and Daryl is with me, I'll be fine."

Joe chuckled, stuffing the almost empty water bottle back in the bag. "Yeah, but y'all do need a group to protect each other. Y'all really think three against a world filled with the dead is enough?"

"It's enough for us." Wilmur shrugged, his frustration growing. "We know what we're doing."

"Yeah, you may know what y'all are doin' but death just happens." Joe replied, chuckling. "It don't matter if ya know how to survive. If you don't have people, you die. I know you've seen it happen."

Wilmur scoffed, crossing his arms in frustration before turning his back to Joe. He knew he was going to try and convince him and Daryl to stay with their group instead of going into Terminus. All evil people ever did was keep their group members prisoners and gave them no choice but to fight with them through the dead in the destroyed world.

The Governor always kept people prisoners since the day the outbreak started. He refused to let them go, and if they escaped, he killed them slowly and painfully. He usually managed to convince people to stay on his side and fight with him even though they saw him as an evil and cruel man but refused to see it.

"I've seen everyone die." Wilmur retorted after a moment of silence. "I've seen from friends to family lose their lives. Believe it or not, most of them were killed by people."

Joe stuttered as he stared upon the young teen who had lost countless people in the hands of one man which was his own father. He knew Wilmur and Daryl had lost a lot of people because they were alone and by themselves before they lost Beth.

"So don't tell me I need people because most of them are bad." Wilmur continued.

Joe chuckled with a slight bit of mischievousness in it. "But we're not."

"Kind of sounds like you are." Wilmur retorted. "You're searching for a man and you're going to kill him just like all the other bad guys."

"He killed Lou." Joe reminded him. "He killed one of our guys. We're not gonna let him go."

Flashes of the Governor flooded through Wilmur's mind as he remembered how he and Andrea escaped Woodbury during the violent war so they could warn about what his father was going to horrifyingly do. However, his father refused to left them go. He managed to catch up to them when they made it to the prison and knocked them both unconscious before taking them back.

It was just like what Joe was doing. Joe and the Governor both refused to let their innocent enemies go. They both chased after them and were both going to kill them.

"You aren't going to let that man go, right?" Wilmur questioned and Joe nodded. "That doesn't mean Daryl and I can't."

"Y'all are one of us." Joe replied. "Y'all should stay with us after you find your boyfriend. After we kill that man, we can leave Terminus together."

"I'm not putting my boyfriend in danger." Wilmur said angrily, his protectiveness kicking in.

Joe chuckled mischievously. "Yeah, but you'll be around him. You'd protect him."

"I meant I'm not putting him danger by staying with this group." Wilmur corrected, growling through his gritted teeth. "I don't want him around either of you."

"Why?" Joe chuckled. "Len's dead. There's nothing to worry about."

"It's not just Len's death." Wilmur growled. "It's something else."

It wasn't Len's death that concerned him and Daryl but the way Len died. Joe and the Claimers had beat up one of their own just like how Carol killed Karen and David. Wilmur didn't want Carl around Joe or the Claimers if they were willing to beat up one of their own members or friends to death. All it took was for Carl to do one little thing for Joe to tell the Claimers to beat him to death.

Wilmur and Daryl couldn't protect Carl from the mischievous Claimers. They had a secret evil inside them which made them mischievous and suspicious. Blood was on their hands which belonged to innocent people who were likely killed because they were once a part of their group or because they didn't like them.

"Look, I can't make y'all stay." Joe said, sighing. "But y'all are gonna realize that you'll need us, but it'll be too late."

Wilmur shot Joe a deadly death glare as he clenched his black machete tighter than ever. "We'll die if we stay with you. Your stupid rules will get us killed, or at least your men will kill one of us because we broke some rule."

"Is that what this is about?" Joe asked, chuckling. "It disturbed you when we killed Len, didn't it? And you don't want the same thing happening to Daryl and your boyfriend, right?"

Wilmur continued to glare as his palm turned purple from clenching his machete too tightly.

"Come on, fella." Joe said, patting Wilmur on the shoulder. "I can tell y'all are good people. I know y'all won't break the rules."

Wilmur scoffed. "It doesn't matter if Len broke the rules or not. You killed your own member! Your own friend! Yeah, I hated him. But he was your friend!"

Joe chuckled, patting Wilmur's shoulder again but is simply shrugged away. "He broke the rules. He lied. He insulted you after I asked him to stop. Hell, he broke a rule a month ago when he kicked Tony off the bed he claimed. You see, that was three rules he broke. He wasn't a part of our group, and he sure as hell wasn't our friend."

"I can't help but wonder how many people you did the same to." Wilmur said, growls escaping through his gritted teeth. "How many walkers have you and your group killed?"

Joe furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but answered the strange question. "More than we could count."

"How many people have you killed?" Wilmur asked the hard question, glaring at Joe while doing so.

Joe hesitated before answering. "I haven't kept track of how many people my men killed, but I killed sixteen. Well, seventeen because of Len."

Wilmur flinched at the big amount of people Joe had killed. He expected him to be a killer, but he hadn't expected him to kill sixteen innocent people. Len had deserved to his death, but he wasn't sure about the other sixteen. Some of them had most likely been a part of the Claimers and had got beat up to death because they broke a rule.

"Why?" Wilmur asked, strengthening his death glare.

"Five of them tried to kill us, so I killed them." Joe answered. "Six of them broke our rules, including Len. And the other six is cause' we didn't trust 'em."

Wilmur scoffed, giving his head a small shake before holstering his black machete but kept his firm grip on it. "I don't trust you. I understand at the people who tried to kill you but the others?"

"It's just the way things are." Joe replied. "It don't matter about what we do cause' it just happens."

"Yes it does." Wilmur retorted with frustration in his tone. "We're still people. Whether we're bad or not, we're still people. A lot of times, we're given no choice. So it does matter about what we do to keep ourselves breathing."

Joe chuckled. "It don't matter about what we do cause' that's what keeps us breathing. That's why I set rules for the road. It just happened. It wasn't anybody's fault."

Wilmur scoffed before laying his head back against his backpack filled with supplies, draping his arm above his head while his other hard was draped over his starving stomach. He closed his drooping eyes in hopes for Joe to leave him alone. He wasn't in the mood for arguing and he certainly didn't want to be with his group.

In certain ways, Joe was right. Despite the Claimers having a secret evilness sparking inside their mischievous eyes, little of the lectures Joe had said was right. However, there was no rules anymore. It was either share and survive or be selfish and die. No rules from their old world existed anymore. Each and every single one of the rules they once had was gone since the day the apocalypse had started.

"Listen, Joe." Wilmur said more calmly with his tired voice. "Daryl, my boyfriend, and I are not staying. We don't want to be here. We just want to survive."

Joe chuckled, patting on Wilmur's shoulder one last time before gravitating near Dan to speak to him. Wilmur sighed at relief of Joe's annoying presence being gone before gently closing his drooping eyes again and drifting off to his own world. He pictured his lover's beautiful face while placing in a sparking river surrounded by sparkling river rocks.

Daryl watched as Wilmur slowly drifted to sleep while he gripped his crossbow tightly. His eyes darted ahead of the tracks which would lead to Terminus. His weak fingers trembled against his crossbow from starvation as he desperately tried to keep his tight grip on it.

They were very close to Terminus. All they had was a few or a bit more miles left and then they'd finally find sanctuary and Carl. If the Terminus Residents were trustworthy, they didn't have to run every single day anymore. They would finally have shelter, food, water, clean cloths, and a bed. They wouldn't have to freeze in the nights, run every single moment, desperately try to find water or food, or hold their breaths and hope they don't die. Terminus could be the answer to everything.

Daryl's eyes darted to Joe who was chuckling along with Dan while Billy, Tony, and Harley slept with their eyes closed tightly. All of their stomachs were growling loudly for food as their tongues screamed for water. Crimson blood was stained all over their filthy cloths and skin along with dry dirt. Bruises and cuts were plastered over Wilmur's injured body.

From inside Wilmur's flannel, Daryl could tell his ribcages were either severely bruised or broken. His wrist was swollen again due to being ran over by a car and using the same hand every single day to kill walkers or carry a bag. One of his shoes was tight against one of his swollen ankles, making the wound much worse. All of his bruises were healing, but more was forming every single day along with new cuts. Wilmur still refused to rest no matter how much wounds he had or how severely injured he was.

Daryl hoped there was a doctor in Terminus. If Wilmur wouldn't heal, his wounds would surely get worse. It wouldn't heal if they were running every single day while killing more than a hundred of walkers along with being paranoid about the Claimers or people.

"You should rest, Daryl." Joe said, interrupting Daryl from his deep thoughts.

The archer simply gave his head a shake, shooting Joe a small glare. He wasn't sure if he trusted Joe or the Claimers just like Wilmur. He had listened to Wilmur ask Joe the three questions about his group. They had killed many innocent people. He wondered if the man they were helping the Claimers track was really proven to be guilty to kill Lou or not.

If so, Daryl and Wilmur knew they couldn't stay much longer. They had already helped the Claimers track enough of the most likely innocent man. If the Claimers fell asleep, they could most likely get to Terminus before they realize they're gone. They wouldn't have to be with a disgusting group anymore but instead with sanctuary who could be good people.

"I'm taking watch." Daryl told Joe with frustration visible in his blue eyes.

Joe chuckled, lifting himself up on his elbows. "Come on, fella. You and Wilmur always take watch. Give it a rest. I can take care of it."

"I said, I got it." Daryl snapped with frustration in his tone. "I ain't resting."

"You don't always have to handle everything." Joe told the archer, chuckling before he stood up. "Let me handle it for once. Get some rest. You deserve it."

Daryl glared, his tight grip on his crossbow growing even tighter. "I said, I got this."

"No, you don't." Joe retorted, chuckling as he patted Daryl's shoulder. "You should your friends in. You and Wilmur should. It's okay to rest right now, fella."

"Y'all ain't my friends." Daryl growled. "And we sure as hell ain't yours."

"That's where y'all are wrong." Joe chuckled, patting him on the back. "We are your friends. That's why we're trying to help."

Daryl clenched his crossbow tighter than ever as his palm turned purple from holding it too tightly. His glare strengthened while he gritted his teeth with growls rippling out of his chest and through his teeth. His other fist clenched tightly as he glared straight into Joe's mischievous eyes.

Tension and rage sped through Daryl's boiling veins as his heart began beating faster with his anger building up inside it. He slowly took a menacing step toward Joe with his deadly glare growing.

Joe was quick to place a hand against Daryl's chest where his growls were rippling from. "Whoa. Whoa. Take it easy. I just want you to rest, okay?"

"Daryl claims taking watch." Wilmur said groggily from almost falling asleep, breaking the strong tension.

Joe sighed in defeat before nodding to Daryl, settling down next to Dan again who was already fast asleep. Daryl softened his eyes at Joe's frustration presence being gone before staring blankly ahead of the tracks again which lead to Terminus.

Wilmur yawned before shifting on his side to sleep better with his hands being under his cheek laying on top of his backpack. He mourned for Carl to be with him so he could wrap his arms around him and soothe not only his lover but himself as well. He needed to hold him again just like he held him in the prison at the secret spot no one hadn't discovered except them.

He missed those special and sweet moments when it was just the two of them in the same room alone together. They always shared rough or gentle kisses while they had their warm and strong arms wrapped around each other. They never needed to talk but share their love instead. He needed the passionate warmth and strong love to keep himself satisfied. Nothing and no one could fill the empty hold Carl had created but could fill in again.

Slowly, Wilmur drifted off to sleep along with the Claimers while he listened to the quiet walker snarling in the far distance of the woods and tracks.

Carl snuck behind Wilmur and wrapped his arms around his back, causing Wilmur to flinch. He placed a kiss against Wilmur's cheek before settling down in a chair next to his. Wilmur smiled and placed his warm lips against Carl's soft ones, sneaking his tongue inside and battling with his.

The younger lover ended up in the older lover's lap, battling his tongue and kissing him strongly with passion and tenderness growing stronger each second. He moved lips to his neck and gently nibbled on it, provoking moans of pleasure from Carl.

Carl's fingers dug into Wilmur's back as he felt his teeth gently nibble into his neck. He moaned in pleasure as the passion and tender grew impossibly even more stronger. He pushed Wilmur's lips away and placed his own against Wilmur's neck, gently nibbling with the experience Wilmur had given him.

Wilmur moaned in pleasure as he felt his younger lover's teeth gently nibble against his neck. He wrapped his arms around his slim form and brought him closer so Carl could deepen the passion and pleasure.

"You guys sure are a couple." A voice interrupted their moment.

Wilmur's eyes darted over Carl's hair as Carl stopped nibbling on his neck to see Patrick stepping into the cellblock. He had the same annoying smile on his lips as he giggled nervously. His cheeks were flustering red and his eyes darted to Carl's legs.

As soon as Patrick took a step closer, Wilmur shoved Carl behind him, glaring upon the teen. He had noticed how Patrick's eyes darted to Carl's legs while he cheeks turned to a shade of light pink. He wouldn't let Patrick take Carl away from him and make him his.

"Do you mind?" Wilmur asked with annoyance, huffing. "We're trying to have a moment."

Patrick giggled as if he was enjoying himself, taking a few steps closer which caused Wilmur to push himself out of the comfortable chair and push Carl back even more. He shot Patrick a death glare as he held Carl's hand from behind and gently stroked his palm to give him reassurance.

"So have you're moment." Patrick chuckled in amusement while shrugging.

Wilmur strengthened his death glare, gritting his teeth and clenching his other fist without Carl's hand in it. "I meant as in alone."

"But why?" Patrick asked, still smiling and giggling. "Can I not stay in here?"

Wilmur took a menacing step toward Patrick, letting go of Carl's hand and clenching both of his fists tightly. His death glare grew along with his tight fists with his teeth gritting to keep the growls from escaping.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Wilmur questioned.

"No." Patrick giggled. "But what about you? Do you have something better to do than hang out with Carl?"

Wilmur failed to hold back his growls and roars of rage as he slammed Patrick against the wall, smashing his foot on his. Patrick yelped in pain, but kept the same smile on his lips and the same giggles escaping them.

Carl quickly rushed to his older lover and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him off Patrick in case things got any worse like they always had in the past. He rested his chin against his shoulder while murmuring comforting things in Wilmur's ear to calm down his rage and anger.

Wilmur relaxed as he closed his eyes with Carl's sweet breath and comforting words reassuring his anger and rage. He let go of the collar of Patrick's shirt before resting against Carl's embrace, listening to each, comforting word slipping passed his lips. He placed his palm over the back of Carl's hand before gently stroking it with his index finger.

Patrick continued to giggle yet blush at the sight of Carl embracing the angry Wilmur. His heart began to beat faster with jealousy while his veins boiled with the same thing. His fingers and hands trembled as he fought the urge to shove Wilmur off and touch every inch of the soft skin exposed on Carl's body.

However, Patrick knew better not to touch Carl in front of Wilmur. He knew it would only result in getting himself either severely injured or painfully killed. He didn't want to hurt the person he mourned to be with, but he wanted so much to touch Carl's soft and smooth skin.

"It's okay." Carl whispered in Wilmur's ear. "Everything's okay. Nothing bad is going on. It's all okay."

Wilmur sighed as he rested his head against Carl's collarbone with each word he mummered into his ear calming him down slowly. His rage and anger slowly was calming down with each word being whispered into his ear and each sweet breath brushing against his neck.

Beth stepped in the cell with Judith being held in her arms as she slept peacefully. She stared at the three boys with concern and worry filling her eyes when she noticed Carl was comforting Wilmur while Patrick was staring at them with his cheeks turning red.

"Is everything okay?" Beth asked with concern in her tone.

Carl nodded. "Yeah, there was just a disagreement."

Beth narrowed her aqua eyes filled with concern and worry. She knew Carl was lying. She knew him far too well to give in to his lie like Rick always did.

"Wilmur?" Beth questioned him, rubbing Judith's back when she cooed.

Like Carl, Wilmur nodded. He didn't want to cause stress throughout everyone in the prison. He could handle Patrick himself just like he was able to handle Milton and Andrea himself.

Beth softened her eyes before nodding, sitting on the stairs with the sleeping Judith still resting against her chest. Her even breath gently brushed against her neck as she slept peacefully, shifting a little at the tension.

"Let's clean our guns." Carl whispered in Wilmur's ear, rubbing circles on the back of his hand with his index finger. "I'm sure Dad will appreciate that."

Wilmur nodded, shooting Patrick one last death glare before following Carl back to the table. He placed his own pistol against the table along with Carl's before pulling out a box filled with guns. He gave he and Carl one pistol at a time before pulling out washrags.

Carl began emptying the chambers while Wilmur wiped the outside of the dirty pistols. Stained blood was splattered against it with old dirt smeared on it. Wilmur did his best to wipe off every inch of blood and dirt he could while Carl took care of the chambers.

It took a moment for both of them to realize Patrick was standing right over them with his hot breath brushing right up against Carl as he admired his clean and smooth skin. He pupils were larger as he stared upon the beautiful, younger teen with his hands threatening to touch him.

"Go away." Wilmur growled before pointing at a box of logos sitting in the corner. "Play with those toys over there if it's the only thing to keep you away from us."

"But I'd rather be with Carl." Patrick whined, still keeping the huge smile on his lips.

Wilmur scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "Well, he doesn't want to be near you. Play with those toys, idiot."

"How do you know Carl doesn't want to be near me?" Patrick questioned, giggling.

"Patrick, can you play with the logos?" Carl asked calmly but Wilmur could hear the frustration being blocked in his tone. "Trust me, you don't want to clean the guns."

Patrick sighed in defeat before making his way over to the logos. Wilmur sighed with relief before continuing to clean the guns with a blue and red washrag. He desperately tried to wash off the stained dirt and blood, but it was nearly impossible.

There had been too much blood and violence during the war to wipe the scars of their skin and guns. Too many deaths had happened when the Governor started the violent war and killed many innocent people slowly and painfully.

Wilmur kept his eyes on Patrick while he cleaned each of the guns. He squinted his eyes in irritation and disgust as he studied Patrick's smiling face while he played the logo toys. There was something to Patrick that not only annoyed him but disgusted as well. He knew there was something inside Patrick that made him want Carl, and it disgusted him.

Wilmur had noticed the way Patrick stared at Carl's exposed skin with his wide pupils and his body while his face flustered light pink or red. He wouldn't let Patrick interfere with him and Carl. Carl was his and his only.

Carl turned his head to notice Wilmur was not only staring but glaring at Patrick as well. He took a hold of Wilmur's hand and turned his face to face him. Carl gave him a warm smile to which Wilmur smiled and replaced the glare with love. They leaned in and locked their soft and warm lips together.

It was a kiss as gentle as ever. They didn't want it to grow less innocent due to a jealous Patrick and a sleeping baby being present in the same room. They broke apart and stared into each other's blue eyes before focusing on cleaning their guns again.

Wilmur kept the same smile against his lips as he stared at Carl while cleaning the guns. He very grateful and proud to have Carl as his boyfriend. He wouldn't want his love any other way in his life. No one else would be able to earn his strong love except Carl.

The older lover continued to smile while he gripped the younger's hand, gently stroking his palm and smiling at him while he cleaned a gun with his other hand. Carl smiled warmly back at him while he emptied each chamber and tucked it back in the box filled with other guns.

However, as soon as Rick stepped into the cell, the beautiful smile placed against Carl's soft lips disappeared into a frown. He was still angry at his father for what he done to him, but he was very slowly forgiving him just like Wilmur was.

Rick greeted Patrick who was playing on the floor with the logos. "Hey, Patrick."

"Hey, Mr. Grimes." Patrick greeted formally, looking down at the logos "Thanks for grabbing these."

Rick shrugged as he stared down at the teenage boy blankly. "Well, I thought Carl might want 'em."

Carl rolled his eyes and continued to clean the guns while speeding the pace too fast with anger and rage. Scoffs were slipping out of his mouth as he increased the pace. However, Wilmur rubbed his back to soothe him.

"They were just sitting here." Patrick replied nervously. "I figured it had been a while. I'm not ashamed that they're for ages four to twelve."

"You shouldn't be." Rick replied, patting Patrick on the back before heading over to his son. "Hey."

Wilmur could feel Carl tense from his father's presence by placing a hand on his back. He noticed the frown on his lips grew larger while he nervously continued to clean the guns.

"Hey." Carl said while emptying the chambers of the guns.

Rick turned his head to see Beth waving Judith's tiny hand to greet him. His eyes darted back over to his son and his son's boyfriend to see them continue cleaning guns while Patrick played on the floor with toy logos. He wanted a different life for his son. A life that was happier and more normal for kids to have.

"Carl." Rick said, trying to grab his attention.

"Yes?" Carl replied, refusing to look at his father's face while he emptied and chambers to clean them.

Rick sighed in annoyance at his son's ignorance. "Carl."

The young teen finally lifted his head to look at his father with his hands stopping from cleaning the guns with Wilmur doing the same thing. He wished for Rick to leave so they could have their moments to themselves without a desperate teenager and annoying father to interrupt them.

"I need you're help with somethin'." Rick said, turning his head to Wilmur. "Wilmur, you can help if you want."

Wilmur nodded in agreement, grabbing his pistol along with Carl and placing bullets in it. Rick was quick to stop them while placing a hand on the table. Hershel had told him to help his son, and guns would only result in getting in the way.

"Leave it behind." Rick told them.

Carl furrowed his eyebrows with Wilmur doing the same. "What?" Carl questioned. They never went anywhere without their guns before.

Rick took off his belt which had a gun in it along with different types of sharp knives. He placed it on the table along with his jacket before taking Carl and Wilmur's gun and doing the same.

"It'll just get in the way."

Carl followed Michonne back to the car they would be sleeping and resting in for a day or two with heavy firewood held in his arms. He struggled to keep up with Michonne due to the heaviness of the firewood and his starvation slowing him down. His stomach growled and grumbled loud enough for birds, animals, and insects to fly or run away.

He panted with exhaustion as the hot sun beamed down on his through the leafs hanging from the trees. Sweat dripped down Michonne's temples as she struggled to keep walking through the strong heat. Her eyes darted to the young teen struggling to follow behind her in the steaming heat.

She slowed down a bit to help Carl catch up on his trembling legs. Carl jogged up to her before continuing to follow her throughout the woods. He could see a very small river in the distance, but it was too dirty for them to drink or bathe in. A dead bod laid in it, coloring some of the dirty river crimson red as it's skulls sank deeper into the mud.

"Do you think we can clean that water?" Carl asked desperately while he panted.

Michonne shook her head before wrapping her arm around the young teen. "No, but we'll find some water and food."

Carl bowed his head as he followed after the samurai with the heavy firewood held in his arms which was weakening from starvation. His entire body was growing more and more underweight every day due to starvation and running too much everyday. The black sags under his eyes caused by exhaustion was only growing darker with each night passing by. It was growing harder and harder to run due to exhaustion and starvation. His night terrors had gotten a little bit better from the talk he had with Michonne on the run, but she couldn't help.

Their stomachs growled even louder. Dead leafs fell on top of them and stuck to their brown hair which was soaked with sweat. They were lucky it had been a little bit more chilly, but running everyday without rest was what exhausted and heated them up too much.

"We're back." Michonne told Rick as they made their way over to him.

Rick gave away a tiny smile on his chapped lips which was covered by his beard. "Good. I was about to come look."

"We found more than we need." Carl said. "There's also a small creek or river nearby, but it's dirty."

"Can we not clean it?" Rick asked, focusing more on Michonne than Carl.

Michonne gave her head a small shake. "No. There's a dead body in it too, so..."

Rick sighed before nodding, patting his son on the shoulder but stopped as soon as he felt his bones. They felt too fragile and too weak due to growing skinnier from starvation and lack of rest. They needed to find food before Carl or any of them grew too underweight and water before they passed out from dyhration.

"Maybe that river leads to more fresher water." Rick said desperately. "All we need to do is follow it."

Michonne shrugged. "Maybe, but we need to rest. Especially you and Carl."

Their stomachs suddenly grumbled for food as it grew angrier. All of their visions were spinning and slowly fading to black. Dizziness was greeting their heads as the world spun along with deep exhaustion. The grumbling in their starving stomachs echo's in their ears as they grew more and more dizzy.

"We need to find..." Rick cut himself off as the world spun. "We need to find food."

"We got that rabbit." Michonne reminded him. "That's all we need to hold us over the night."

Rick hesitated before slowly giving his head a small nod to agree as the world stopped spinning and their visions slowly started to come back while their empty stomachs growled. Carl placed the firewood against the ground before pulling out two rocks to spark a small fire with Michonne and Rick watching from behind.

They were both worried for the young teen's night terrors and health. They knew he was too much underweight from starvation and his night terrors was only making it worse. They hoped Terminus would be the place they were told it would be such as having trustworthy people, water, food, weapons, ammunition, and guards just like the prison.

If Terminus wasn't the place it's said to be on the signs, all hope would be lost. Their starvation and dyhration would only increase from the lack of food and water. Bad people would eventually greet and possibly kill one of them. Carl's night terrors would get worse and attract thousands of herds in the dark and dangerous night. Neither one of them would be able to survive in the world filled with endless walkers and horrifying people.

A bright fire sparked against the two rocks Carl had used to start it before throwing it in the firewood. He picked up three sharp sticks big enough for the fire so they could cook the dead rabbit. Rick cut up the rabbit in three, tiny pieces and placed it against each of their sticks before frying it in the fire.

The fire was very small which would cause their rabbits to cook slower than usual. It was finally able to turn the white rabbit into a very light brown color after thirty or forty minutes. Carl draped a hand over the back of his head for a pillow to lay against the concrete on the road as he waited for his rabbit.

They knew the rabbit would take a bit more than a while to cook due to the fire being too small. They hoped it would ease a little bit of their starvation and keep them satisfied until they reach Terminus.

Wilmur helped Carl dig holes for patches Rick and Hershel hoped to plant food in. They were going to start growing their food instead of going on dangerous runs for it. There was pigs wandering around in the woods filled with walkers Daryl and Wilmur had found a few days ago when they were going to check the snares.

Although it was best for Carl to lay back on survival a bit, it was still dangerous and it annoyed Wilmur. Without his gun, Carl wouldn't be able to protect himself if walkers or people attacked their home. There had to be someway for Wilmur to gain it back himself, but he knew it would be futile.

However, Wilmur knew it was best not to argue with Rick at the moment. It would only result in Rick lashing out at Carl for no reason and it was the last thing Wilmur wanted for Carl to be blamed for or upset. He had already seen enough of Carl's tears when he was having his terrifying night terrors. He wasn't going to tolerate anymore tears.

Carl struggled to dig a patch in the stubborn ground, causing Wilmur to try and help him out. However, he couldn't make the patch either due to the ground being too hard. Wilmur bent down and tried to push against it as hard as he could while Carl tried to shove the shovel into the ground.

Rick had noticed the stubborn incident and made his way over to the teens with his shovel held in his hand. "Put it in at more of an angle."

Carl obeyed and angled the shovel into the ground, causing his sheriff hat to fall of his head while doing so. Wilmur giggled before reaching toward it to grab it, but Rick was quicker.

"Gonna have to get you a farming hat." Rick joked, chuckling.

Carl grinned along with Wilmur before giggling quietly at the joke. Rick smiled in amusement and joy before placing the hat on top of Beth's head who was holding Judith as she slept peacefully just like she did when Wilmur and Carl were cleaning the guns.

"There's a new sheriff in town." Rick continued to joke while chuckling.

Wilmur giggled in joy along with Carl and Hershel as he stared upon Beth who was the new sheriff of the prison. "What if I want to be the new sheriff?"

Beth giggled before taking off Carl's sheriff hat and placing it on Wilmur's head. The four of them giggle and laugh as they stared upon their new sheriff who was wearing Carl's hat. They had completely forgotten about the outside world where people die or turn every single day with others trying to survive.

"I'm sheriff Carl Grimes." Wilmur joked, changing his voice to sound more like Carl while Carl blushed with joy. "I'm a man who is very stubborn, gifted, and always right when I say I am."

"Hey!" Carl laughed with the others. "I'm not like that."

Wilmur giggled, holding out his arms to the small group. "I think we all know that's a lie."

Rick, Hershel, and Beth nodded in agreement as they laughed with a joyful grin over their lips. Carl shot them a playful glare, but he failed to keep it in his light blue eyes. He giggled along with them as they stared at Carl's sheriff hat placed against Wilmur's head.

"Give me that." Carl giggled, pulling his sheriff hat off Wilmur's head before placing it back on Beth's. "I prefer Beth to be the new sheriff in town."

Wilmur laughed before pressing his lips against Carl's soft ones but was quick to pull away to ease the discomfort in everyone. He wrapped his arm around his smaller form before continuing to dig while they laughed with joy and amusement.

"It can be like this all the time." Hershel said, still giggling.

Rick stared upon his son who was laughing with Wilmur as they gently and playfully tickled each other and then to Beth who was rocking the sleeping Judith with Carl's sheriff hat placed against her head.

"It's like this now." Rick agreed. "That's enough."

Daryl gently shook Wilmur to wake him up quietly so he wouldn't wake up Joe or the Claimers. It was their perfect time to escape the mischievous group since they were all sleeping. If they could leave now, they could be long gone by the time the Claimers woke up.

Wilmur scrunched his face in displeasing as Daryl shook him awake. He was exhausted and wanted more than anything to sleep a little longer. He had been running ever since the prison fell without any rest and barely any food or water in the heat. He never settled for sleep in the night because of the sound of walker snarls.

The sun shined down through the clouds onto his pale and dirty cheeks. He groaned before draping his hand over his eyes as Daryl continued to shake him awake. A yawn escaped his throat as he pulled his hands away from his drooping eyes and opened them. Daryl's face blocked the sunlight from beaming down on him any longer as he stared down at him blankly.

"Yeah?" Wilmur said with a groggily voice.

"Get up." Daryl replied. "We're leaving. I ain't staying with these people anymore."

Wilmur lifted himself up on his bruised elbows before rubbing his eyes to drain the sleepiness and droopiness. "What about the deal?"

Daryl gave his head a small shake as he reached for his crossbow laying on the ground beside the tracks. "Forget it. These people are bad. I don't want us to get blamed for when they find that man."

"But they said they would help us find Carl." Wilmur argued, his voice still groggily.

"We know where he is now." Daryl replied. "We ain't gonna need them no more."

Wilmur sighed as he reached for his backpack, placing it on his back before picking up his holster with his pistol in it and wrapping it around his leg. He glanced back at the Claimers one last time to make sure they were fast asleep before following Daryl down the tracks which led to Terminus.

Birds chirped in the trees on the side of the tracks while raccoons stayed hidden from the bright sunlight. Squirrels were circling around the woods as they looked for acorns. A few dead bodies laid among the tracks with their skulls appearing more than their bloody skin where black birds were eating from.

Their legs trembled from starvation and exhaustion as they walked among the tracks with a few dead bodies on it. A few walkers stumbled out of the woods and snarled as soon as they saw the fresh flesh. Wilmur pulled out his black machete before shoving it through it's soft skull while Daryl shot the other two walkers dead with his crossbow.

Exhaustion shot through Wilmur's trembling legs before collapsing to the ground along with the dead walker. Daryl offered him a hand to which he accepted, letting Daryl pull him up. He tucked his bloody machete back in his belt before following after Daryl again. A few stained blood droplets laid among the tracks, indicating a walker herd had came through a few days ago.

A few more walker snarls came from inside the woods on the side of the tracks. Wilmur glanced at Daryl to see him with his crossbow already held up. He pulled out his machete again before slashing the walkers in the skulls as soon as they stepped out of the woods. It had been the same herd that came through the tracks a few days ago. It most likely heard something and tried to chase after it, but lost it.

Crimson blood splattered on Wilmur's cheeks and his grey flannel with each stab in the walkers heads. Daryl gravitated near him to make sure there was no trouble while he shot arrows right passed his shoulders. A walker jumped on Wilmur, causing him to stumble to the ground from exhaustion while he roared to fight it off.

Daryl was quick to shoot an arrow through it's skull before pulling it off Wilmur. He offered him another hand up when a walker suddenly jumped on both of them. Wilmur quickly sent his machete through it's skull before doing the same to the one behind it.

All of the walkers laid dead on the ground with blood seeping from either their foreheads or the back of their head. It would leave a track for the Claimers, but they would be long gone by the time they wake up.

"Hey, Daryl?" Wilmur said, panting from exhaustion.

"Yeah?"

"Wouldn't the Claimers find us?" He questioned. "I mean, they know we're going to Terminus. They'll find us there."

Daryl shrugged. "It don't matter. They can't make us go with 'em. Why do ya care?"

"I don't." Wilmur admitted. "I'm just worried. You know how they are."

Daryl shrugged once again before continuing to walk along the tracks. Wilmur sighed, gripping his backpack straps before following after his ex-adoptive father. He kept one hand draped over his black machete in his belt in case any walkers attacked them.

Dead leafs, dirt, and gravel laid between the wooden tracks. Wet dirt stuck to their shoes along with the crunchy leafs. The gravel crackled under their feet while the leafs crunched. It attracted a few walkers, but they were able to kill them. More and more walkers continued to stumble out of the woods before they sent their arrows or knives through their soft skulls.

A few abandoned houses laid on the side of the tracks, but they simply ignored them like they were nothing. They didn't want to do any supply runs because they wanted to get to Terminus as fast as they could so they could reunite with Carl and get away from the Claimers faster.

The sun was setting in the sky slowly, creating beautiful, orange and pink colors in the gorgeous sky. The temperature cooled down a bit along with the dripping sweat dripping from their hair and temples while soaking into their shirts. They had came across another Terminus sign, telling them they were almost there.

Walkers had became more active due to the sun setting in the beautiful sky. More walkers began stumbling out of the woods and growled upon seeing the fresh flesh on Wilmur and Daryl's skin. A herd suddenly came out of the woods and stumbled on the tracks in front of them.

Daryl quickly grabbed Wilmur's flannel by the shoulder and yanked him back before he had the chance to do anything reckless. They rushed the other way they came from as the herd chased them from behind. Exhaustion shot through Wilmur's trembling legs as he desperately tried to keep up with Daryl.

More walkers poured out of the forest and made their way toward them, their arms reached out for their flesh and their teeth chomping together. Daryl brutally smashed the walker out of the way with his crossbow before grabbing Wilmur to help him keep up.

The sky grew darker and darker while Wilmur's exhaustion grew impossibly each minute of sprinting throughout the tracks as they desperately tried to get away from the walker herds. In the dark distance, Daryl could see the Claimers up ahead. Although Wilmur couldn't see them because his vision was slowly fading to black, he knew they were coming.

Gunshots rang in the rotten air as the Claimers shot the walker herd down. The gunshots attracted more walkers to pour out of the dangerous woods and snarled at their fresh flesh, but was immediately shot down by the Claimers. Dead walkers surrounded them with blood seeping out of their thin skin and skulls before sinking on the ground and surrounding their feet.

Wilmur's vision slowly moved more of it's color to black as the Claimers ran over to them. Dan, Billy, and Joe was laughing while Tony and Harley glared with anger and rage with their fists clenched tightly. Their voices echo's in Wilmur's ears as he lost more of his vision and hearing.

Exhaustion and starvation was shooting through Wilmur like when lightning strikes water and electrocutes it. His stomach growls and grumbles echo's in his ringing ears as he gripped onto Daryl to keep himself from collapsing. His fingers trembled as he clinged tightly to Daryl's leather jacket and his legs threatened to buckle.

"Wilmur? You okay there, fella?" Wilmur heard Joe's voice echo in his ears.

Anger and rage sped through Wilmur's boiling veins as he glared upon Joe and the Claimers while they chuckled mischievously. He was sick of the evil group despite them helping him and Daryl find Carl. He had enough of them chasing them around all day and lecturing them about survival just like Daryl was sick of it.

Daryl gripped onto Wilmur tightly to keep him from passing out. He knew the starvation and exhaustion was getting to him from running all day. If they didn't get him food, water, or rest, he would die.

Suddenly, Wilmur collapsed to the ground as the world began to spin around him. His vision was slowly gaining it's color again and the leafs were turning green while the sky turned dark blue. The moon was almost shining in the sky and the sun was almost gone. He could hear his stomach grumbling and growling for food while his tongue shrieked from the lack of water.

Joe quickly pulled out his water bottle and placed it in his mouth. Wilmur hesitated before grabbing the almost empty water bottle and drinking the rest of it. However, it wasn't enough to satisfy his dry tongue and throat.

His vision had completely gained it's color back along with his hearing. Nothing was plain black or echo's anymore. He could hear and see everyone perfectly clearly as his stomach growled. He weakly lifted himself back up by his weak elbows and trembling legs.

Joe was quick to stop him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy."

Wilmur slapped Joe's hand away and pulled out his pistol while Daryl pointed his crossbow to his head. The Claimers had been quick to draw their guns and click the safety off while pointing it at he and Daryl's foreheads. Joe was simply chuckling while the other Claimers glared strictly to warn them to put down their weapons.

"Take it easy." Joe warned again, chuckling. "We're suppose to be working together, remember?"

Daryl shot Joe a death glare as he refused to lower his crossbow. "We ain't doin' shit together."

Joe simply chuckled, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "We had a deal, remember, fellas? We help you find his boyfriend and you help us find that man that killed Lou."

Wilmur scoffed, his stomach still grumbling as his head ached. "We basically already found that man and we found my boyfriend. There in Terminus. You don't need us anymore."

"That's where you're wrong." Joe replied, chuckling. "If we're both going to the same place, we might as well go together, right?"

"You're bad." Daryl was quick to say. "I bet almost all of those people you and your group killed done nothing wrong. We don't wanna be a part of your group."

"Now, we killed those people cause' they disobeyed our rules of survival." Joe retorted. "Kinda like y'all are. You aren't suppose to leave the group without permission."

Wilmur glared, moving his index finger closer to the trigger. "Like we said before, we aren't a part of your stupid group. We never were! We just helped you find that man because of a deal we made!"

Joe nodded. "You're right. That deal isn't over yet. We still gotta find him, right?"

"You already did." Daryl growled. "It's over. We're not staying any longer."

Wilmur pressed his hand against Daryl's crossbow and lowered it before doing the same with his pistol. He tucked it in his holster with his trembling hand before taking slow steps away from Joe along with Daryl so they could escape easily. They both knew Joe and the Claimers weren't going to let them go too easily.

However, as soon as they moved, Joe grabbed Wilmur by the shoulder and yanked him back. He was glaring at him as the Claimers raised their machine guns again. Daryl grabbed Wilmur from behind, but he couldn't pull him out of Joe's death grip.

"You're staying with us." Joe said with stern in his voice and glare. "That deal is still on. Unless y'all wanna get teached all the way."

Daryl quickly shot an arrow in Joe's ankle before doing the same to Dan behind him. Wilmur quickly took of sprinting on the tracks behind Daryl. Walkers stumbled out of the woods, but they didn't kill them so they could eat the Claimers who was chasing them down.

Gunshots were ringing in the dead air as they desperately sprinted as fast as they could among the tracks leading to Terminus. Exhaustion was shooting through their trembling legs and starvation was weakening their empty stomachs. Walkers kept pouring out of the woods and snarled when seeing their fresh flesh among their skin, but there attention was quickly turned to the Claimers behind them.

"Get back here, bitches!" Tony yelled from behind them.

However, Wilmur and Daryl simply ignored them. They sprinted even faster on their aching and trembling legs as they clenched their weapons tightly in case the Claimers managed to catch up. They could hardly see anything head due to it being too dark for them to be awake. Walker snarls could be heard surrounding them, but they simply pushed passed them when they heard their growls growing closer and closer.

Their legs ached from sprinting too fast for too long and the starvation in their stomach grew due to no water resting on their tongue to cool them down. Sweat dripped down their hair and temples before soaking into their shirts again and making the blood wet.

Before Wilmur could sprint any further, Daryl grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back. "Look."

Wilmur turned his head to see a man sitting down beside a woman with a broken car sitting near them. They had a very small fire and they were tucking tiny pieces of food in their mouths. It was the same man the Claimers had been tracking since they killed Lou along with the woman he was traveling with.

Wilmur squinted his eyes as he tried to get a closer look. He felt like he recognized the man and woman, but he couldn't see well due to it being too dark despite the very small fire the man and woman had. He could hear them whispering to each other, but couldn't hear what they were talking about.

"Is that the man they were looking for?" Wilmur asked.

Daryl shrugged, scooting closer to get a better look while squinting his eyes. "I think so, but I'm not sure of that woman."

"The man was traveling with a woman." Wilmur replied, causing Daryl's eyebrows to furrow at him. "When we were tracking them, I saw a woman's tracks. I forgot to tell you."

Daryl turned his head back toward the man and woman as they quietly moved the leafs and branches to get a better look. He felt like he recognized them as well, but he wasn't sure. They could hear the Claimers footsteps getting closer and closer, but they simply ignored them as they stared upon the man who killed Lou and the woman traveling with him.

The Claimers grabbed Wilmur and Daryl from behind before yanking them backwards by their shirts. Joe took a menacing step toward them and glared as his fists clenched tightly. Daryl tightened the grip on his crossbow while Wilmur slowly pulled his pistol out of his holster.

"We found the man you were looking for." Wilmur spat in Joe's face. "Happy?"

Joe softened his eyes as shock filled them before shoving them out of the way to see the man who killed Lou and a woman who had been traveling with him. His brown eyes darted to Tony who nodded. Tony had been the only one was actually got to see the man's face. Len had been choking him on the floor in a house to see the man hiding under the bed.

Dan began chuckling mischievously before wrapping his machine gun around his back and pulled out one of his most sharpest knives. Billy and Harley prepared their machine guns while Joe and Tony prepared their pistols. They prepared their knives and machetes.

"Tony, you hold woman at gunpoint and I'll tell you when to shoot her." Joe told him, whispering so they wouldn't hear them. "Dan, I need you to make sure no one is in that car. If there is and it's a woman or a young person, rape them. If not, I'll tell you when to stab him to death."

Wilmur and Daryl flinched at their brutality and evilness. They knew the Claimers would be willing to kill the innocent people the man had been traveling with after he killed Lou. Were they really willing to shoot the innocent woman with the man and rape whoever is in the car?

"Billy and Harley, I need you to hold everyone at gunpoint." Joe continued, reloading his pistol. "Let me handle the man. I wanna deal with him."

Wilmur stared through the branches and leafs again to see them shaking as they placed tiny pieces of food in their mouth. He could hear there stomachs rumbling as they whispered words to each other. They were just like regular survivors trying to find shelter, water, and food. They were most likely innocent due to the Claimers being evil and killing more than a dozen of people for no reason.

Joe turned to Wilmur and Daryl, smiling at them both as he chuckled. "I need to apologize for trying to kill you and thank you from helping us find the man. Do you wanna help us kill them?"

"No." Daryl immediately replied. "We're leaving. We're goin' to Terminus right now."

Joe nodded, handing them a fully loaded pistol and a sharp knife. "Y'all be careful on you're own. Come back any time."

Daryl nodded and accepted the pistol, tucking it in his belt along with the knife before giving Joe a handshake. He still didn't trust the evil and mischievous man. The Claimers were about to kill two or three people most likely innocent and even rape one of them. They couldn't be part of an evil and disgusting group like Wilmur was before with the Governor before the violent war.

Meanwhile, Rick and Michonne had been sitting not far from the Claimers as they ate the rabbit they found in the morning with their grumbling stomachs most likely attracting walkers. They were whispering and staring at Carl who was sleeping in the car after Michonne told him to get some rest when he got done eating part of his tiny rabbit.

Carl had been desperately trying to sleep, but he couldn't find the strength to do so despite being exhausted. Although he had a father and surrogate mother there to protect him, he was still being paranoid about walkers, people, the people he lost, and Wilmur. His entire body was tensed from being stressed and worried about Wilmur and his night terrors.

He knew Rick and Michonne were talking about him just outside the car while they ate the tiny rabbit. He could feel their worry and stress as they whispered words to one another while staring at him. Carl did his best to ignore it but he could hardly fall asleep. Even though he was exhausted and could barely keep his drooping eyes opened, he couldn't rest or sleep in all the tension surrounding him.

Unbeknownst, Joe and the Claimers had stepped out of their hiding place and was making there way over to Rick and Michonne. Daryl and Wilmur stayed hidden in the spot as they watched Joe and the Claimers point their pistols to their heads, not knowing it was Rick and Michonne.

"Oh, dearie me." Joe said, pointing the pistol to Rick's head with Tony pointing his pistol to Michonne, kicking her sword away so she couldn't grab it. "You screwed up, asshole. You hear me? You screwed up."

Wilmur squinted his eyes as he moved the leafs and branches to get a closer look with Daryl tugging at his arm. "What is it?" He whispered.

"Shouldn't we get goin'?" Daryl questioned, still tugging at Wilmur's arm.

"Hang on." Wilmur replied, pulling his arm away. "I feel like I've seen these people before."

Daryl sighed before squinting his eyes as well to the recognizable man and woman. He leaned forward a little with Wilmur doing the same to see if they've seen the people in the past or if it was someone who escaped the prison.

"Today is the day of reckoning, sir!" Wilmur and Daryl heard Joe exclaim. "Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe."

Dan pounded on the car window when he realized someone was in there. Carl flinched as soon as he saw the fat man and stared at him with fear in his wide eyes. He took in what was happening around them to see his father was held at gunpoint as well as Michonne with two other men pointing machine guns at them.

Slowly, Carl darted his scared eyes back to the fat man banging on his window. The man chuckled mischievously, but the smile was immediately wiped off his chapped lips and replaced with a look of shock when he took in the boy's appearance. Light blue, frightened eyes, long brown hair, rosy cheeks, slim body, flexible legs. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the young teen.

Wilmur narrowed his suspicious eyes at the car when he realized Dan was pounding on it gently with his knife held in his hand. "There's someone in that car." He said.

Daryl's eyes darted to the same car to see Dan pounding on it. They could both hear his gasps of shock along with his uneven breathing upon seeing the sight of most likely a young woman or young teen in the car.

"Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve." Joe chuckled but it turned into evil laughter. "Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?"

Carl stared with horror as he saw the rage in his father's blue eyes and the anger in Michonne's. Their bodies were tensed up with rage and fear as they listened to the man with grey hair's evil voice. His fists clenched as he desperately tried to contain his fear as the fat man continued to pound on his windows while his eyes scanned his slim body.

Wilmur and Daryl listened to every word coming out of Joe's mouth while he laughed mischievously. The most likely innocent man and woman started getting more and more recognizable every splitting second.

The man who killed Lou had curly brown hair which had grown a bit long along with his beard filled with blood droplets and dirt. He had the color of Carl's blue eyes and the same wounds the Governor had given Wilmur and Rick. There was a plain, silver wedding ring on his index finger which looked exactly like Rick's.

Wilmur stared with shock as he finally realized who the man who killed Lou was. "Is that Rick?"

"Ten Mississippi!" Joe said excitedly.

Wilmur's eyes darted to the woman sitting beside him who had black skin and brown hair with dreadlocks. Her eyes were the same color as Michonne's and a sword was laying beside her.

"That must be Michonne." Wilmur said with shock in his voice.

"Nine Mississippi!" Joe continued to countdown.

Wilmur and Daryl stare into each other's wide eyes filled with shock and fear before quickly jumping out of their hiding place in the woods and rushing to the Claimers where they had Rick and Michonne held at gunpoint. Wilmur's eyes filled with shock quickly scanned the tensed area for Carl as they quickly rushed to the Claimers to stop them.

"Eight Mississippi!" Joe said excitedly with evilness in his mischievous laugh.

Daryl quickly rushed to the Claimers with Wilmur following from behind. "Joe!"

Wilmur's eyes stared with shock upon seeing the man who killed Lou who was actually Rick was held at gunpoint along with his survival partner, Michonne. Their bodies had been tensed with rage and fear from being held at gunpoint but have now softened with shock and love from seeing Daryl and Wilmur.

Rick softened his eyes filled with rage and replaced the expression with shock as he saw the injured Wilmur and the worried Daryl. It had been a month since they last saw each other and they fought so hard to find them, but found Terminus instead. Some bruises from the Governor were still on Wilmur's skin but was almost recovered like his. New bruises and cuts had formed above and under his bloody cloths.

Michonne's eyes filled with love as she stared upon the archer and the Governor's son. She missed going out on runs with Daryl while looking for the Governor at the same time, but they had all changed the moment the Governor marched to the prison fences. They finally had Wilmur back to comfort Carl from his horrifying night terrors. He could finally hold Carl in the night and soothe him from the nightmares which haunt him in the dark night.

Carl's eyes darted from the fat man pounding on his window while chuckling and darted them to Daryl and Wilmur who was now standing outside, staring at Rick and Michonne. Tears of joy filled his eyes at the sight of his boyfriend and surrogate uncle as his arms trembled with excitement and fear at the same time.

He could finally be in Wilmur's arms again after an entire month with their soft and warp lips pressed together while their hands felt around each other's soft and smooth skin. They could finally feel the warmth they gave each other inside the prison again along with the passion running through their veins.

Yet, he terrifying sight of Michonne and his father being held at dangerous gunpoint was horrific. He couldn't lose one of the three people he loved more than anything and anyone else on the entire planet. If he lost one of the three people he truly loved, how was he suppose to go on? He'd be nothing but a weakling facing the brutality of the destroyed world filled evil people and untiring walkers all by himself with no one he loves with him.

"You're stopping me on eight, fellas." Joe told Wilmur and Daryl.

Wilmur's eyes slowly scanned the area for Carl with fear filled inside them from his loved ones being held at gunpoint and was most likely going to die if they didn't do something. His worried eyes came across the car where Dan was pounding on and chuckling as he stared at someone with shock and lust filled in his eyes.

His eyes darted to the windowsill, but he couldn't see anything due to the windows being tented. Fear filled his worried eyes as he slowly darted them back to Joe who was holding Rick at gunpoint.

Daryl took a few steps toward Joe and Rick as he stared at his friends with shock along with Wilmur. "Just hold up."

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about." Harley growled, holding Rick and Michonne at gunpoint with his machine gun.

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothin' but time." Joe retorted. "Say your piece, fellas."

Daryl's eyes darted to Rick whose eyes was still filled with shock over reuniting with someone he loved after such a long time. Michonne was the exact same except rage and anger was visible in her brown eyes from being held at gunpoint without her sword to protect her. She was clenching her fists tightly while she gritted her teeth to keep herself from making a mistake.

"These people, you're gonna let them go." Daryl said as calmly as he could. "These are good people."

"I'm sure these people we're just scared." Wilmur added. "Maybe Lou made them feel threatened so he-so he killed them."

Joe stared at Wilmur and Daryl with disbelief and betrayal as he continued to hold Rick at gunpoint. "Now, I-I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all cause' y'all's friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

Wilmur kept the calm expression on his face as he breathed easily to fight the urge to place a death glare in his calm eyes. His eyes darted back to Rick who was staring at him and Daryl with disbelief of not only reuniting with him but being with a bad group as well. Rick kept his hand placed over the pistol in his belt, but he knew if he moved he would only get himself and others killed.

"You want blood, I get it." Daryl said, putting down his crossbow on the ground and holding out his arms to get shot. "Take it from me, man. C'mon."

Wilmur moved his hand near his pistol in his holster before gently gripping the handle. He wouldn't allow Daryl dying or tolerate him getting severely injured. He had already lost too many people for him to lose another loved one. If the Claimers were going to kill Daryl, they'd have to get through him first.

Joe continued to stare at Wilmur and Daryl with disbelief, betrayal, and hurt in his brown eyes as he held Rick at gunpoint. His fist clenched his pistol tightly to fight the urge to shoot Rick before they could even make him suffer. His eyes darted to Daryl's crossbow on the ground and then to the pistol Wilmur was clenching tightly in his holster.

"This man killed our friend." Joe said with disbelief. "Y'all two say he's good people. See, now that right there is a lie."

Daryl dropped his arms from above his shoulders and sighed in annoyance and defeat with Wilmur doing the same. He gripped the pistol in his holster tighter while his hands threatened to yank it out and shoot Joe.

"It's a lie!" Joe yelled, nodding to Harley and Billy.

Suddenly, Billy hits the back of Daryl's neck with his machine gun and kicked him in the legs to knock him down while Harley smashed his knee against one of Wilmur's broken ribcages which caused them both to collapse to the hard concrete on the leafy road.

"No!" Rick yelled helplessly as soon as Wilmur and Daryl collapsed.

Joe laughed mischievously in joy as he watched Wilmur and Daryl begin to get beat up to death by Harley and Billy. "Teach them, fellas! Teach them all the way!"

Carl stared in horror as he began to watch his own boyfriend begin to get brutally beaten up by a skinny, yet strong man. He could see the crimson blood seeping out of his bruised skin which was creating more dark, purple bruises with each fist and foot smashing against his bruised and fragile body. The man smashed the tip of his machine gun against Wilmur's bruised and broken ribcages before doing the same to his stomach.

Blood splattered out of Wilmur's mouth as soon as the tip of Harley's machine gun smashed against his empty stomach and colored the dead leafs on the road crimson red. A foot smashed against the back of his neck before it was slammed against his bruised back filled with cuts. He desperately tried to reach for his black machete in his belt or pistol in his holster, but he failed when Harley's foot smashed against his swollen wrist, creating a crackling sound in the air filled with evil laughing and moans of pain.

Carl wanted to jump out of the car and suddenly scream no as loud as he could, but the fat man opening the car door and yanking him out stopped him. Carl desperately tried to fight against the fat man's grip, but he failed. The fat man yanked him out of the car and held him in a death grip with a knife pressed against his throat.

Wilmur had noticed Dan had pulled Carl out of the car and was holding him with a very tight grip as Carl cried out in pain while desperately trying to fight against his grip with an knife held to his throat.

"You leave him be!" Rick yelled, trying to stand up but was forced to sit back down by Joe.

"Get your hands off him!" Wilmur yelled, smashing Harley off him as hard as he could but he grabbed his ankle and yanked him back down. "No!"

Wilmur could see the fear written all over Carl's face as Dan licked his neck and earlobe. He remembered when Joe said to rape a woman or a young teen sitting in the car. That young teen turned out to be the love of his entire life.

Carl sat in fear as the fat man shushed him in his ear when he sobbed from being frightened. He desperately tried to fight against the man's grip, but the sharp knife pressing against his throat warned him to not move. His eyes filled with fear darted to his father who had panic and fear in his blue eyes. He darted them from his father to Wilmur who had worry and panic in his eyes not only from getting beat up but also from Carl about to get raped.

"Listen, it was me. It was just me." Rick said with panic in his tone, hoping it would save his son from his horrifying fate.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie." Joe said, chuckling mischievously as he watched Wilmur and Daryl brutally get beat up while Dan molested Carl. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men."

Harley grabbed Wilmur by the hair and smashed him against the hard car after making an attempt to save Carl from getting horrifyingly raped. He punched him in the face and smashed his face against the concrete before stomping on his back more than a dozen times.

Billy slammed Daryl against the car before punching him to the ground and kicking his face brutally as he laughed mischievously. His knuckles crackled each time he slammed his fist against Daryl's bruised and injured body. He smashed his foot against his stomach before doing the same to his wrists and back.

"First, we're gonna beat Daryl and Wilmur to death." Wilmur heard Joe's voice echo in his ringing ears. "Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. And then I'm gonna shoot you and we'll be square."

Joe's evil laughing echo's in Wilmur and Rick's ears as they listened to Carl cry in fear while Dan held him close, licking his neck and earlobe as he shushed him with his hot breath disturbing Carl's neck. Anger and rage risen in their boiling veins as they watched Carl get pushed to the ground.

Wilmur desperately tried to kick Harley off him, but a punch to his gut weakened him. He could hear Carl's cries of pain in fear echoing in his ringing ears as his rage grew. He roared as he fought against Harley's death grip while trying to dodge his fists and feet. He desperately tried to reach for his pistol, but Harley grabbed his wrist and broke it before smashing his foot against it.

Wilmur yelped in pain as he clutched his broken and swollen wrist before Harley smashed his foot against his ribcage and punched in the nose, creating a nose bleed. His fist met just under his eye and created a dark black sag under it. He dragged him across the sharp rocks on the road and slammed his forehead against the car, creating a dark bruise.

Carl cried in fear as he desperately tried to crawl away from the fat man on top of him. However, the fat man grabbed his arms and pulled them back down as his hands felt all around his slim body. Anger and rage flustered through Rick and Wilmur's veins as they listened to the man molesting Carl.

"Let him go." Rick warned, rage boiling his steaming veins.

Wilmur kicked Harley off by smashing his foot against his cheek before quickly crawling toward Carl on his bruised knees. However, Harley was quick to jump on top of him and kick him in the bruised ribcage.

"Let go of him!" Wilmur yelled toward Dan while watching him molest Carl as shrieks escaped his chapped lips. "Get your hands off him!"

Carl watched in horror as Harley smashed Wilmur's back against the hard car after he tried to save him again, but his attention was quickly brought to the fat man on top of him who was still feeling his body everywhere. He shrieked when his hands slipped under his blue jacket and blue flannel before touching his soft skin. He desperately tried to get out of the fat man's death grip while reaching for the knife Dan had placed on the ground.

"Stop your squirming." Dan said, chuckling as he watched Carl scramble for the knife under his weight.

Rage flustered through Wilmur's veins as he heard Dan's words before noticing he had his hands under Carl's jacket and shirt. Anger filled his eyes before kicking Harley in the balls before desperately trying to save Carl. His heart was beating more faster than it ever did in his entire life as he watched Harley touch his own lover. Growls rippled out of his chest as reached for his black machete in his belt, but Harley punched him in the back of the head.

Wilmur collapsed to the ground again before Harley's foot smashed against his cheeks. He roared loudly as he pressed his fingers to Harley's throat and tried to squeeze it, but Harley was punched him in the lips before smashing his foot against his fragile shoulders.

Blood poured out of Wilmur's bruised body with each punch and kick meeting his injured skin while he desperately tried to fight against Harley. The leafs laying against the road was coloring crimson red with each hit Wilmur and Daryl was taking. It surrounded their fighting bodies as dark bruises formed on their bloody skin.

"Let him go." Rick's voice echo's in Wilmur's ears again.

Suddenly, Rick smashed his head against Joe's. As a reflex, Joe fired his pistol but missed Rick due to getting pushed off as blood pulled down his nose and dripped onto his jacket. The gunshot rang in everyone's ears as moans of pain, whimpering, and fists slamming against bodies echo's in the dead, rotten air.

Rick smashed his fist against Joe's cheek as hard as he could with anger and rage filling his boiling veins and broken knuckles. Blood stained on his wrist as he desperately tried to punch him again, but Joe was quicker. He slammed his fist against Rick's nose and kicked him in the bruised ribcages.

"I got him." Joe said with anger in his tone. "Oh, it's gonna be so much worse now!"

Michonne watched in horror as Joe began to slam his foot against Rick's broken and bruised ribcages while he clenched his pistol tighter than ever in his fist. Her hand quickly reached for her sword and Billy's pistol, but Billy smacked her arm away before slapping her hard in the face. Blood poured down her cheek while it stung when her fingers brushed against it.

Carl cried in pain as he desperately scrambled for the knife Dan had dropped, but Dan yanked him back down and smashed hid cheek against the sharp rocks laying against the road. Blood seeped out of cheek as he cried in pain and fear while Dan's hands felt around his smooth and soft skin with his other hand holding down on his head.

Wilmur could hear the sound of a buckle clicking before he flipped his bruised and injured body to see Dan unbuckling Carl's belt and slowly pulling off his jacket. Rage filled his eyes as it boiled his steaming veins before smashing his foot as hard as he could against Harley's ribcage, breaking it.

Rick quickly stood up again as soon as he heard Dan unbuckle Carl's belt. "You leave him be!"

Joe was quick to stop him from charging after the fat man preparing to rape his son. "What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?"

Suddenly, Rick bit into Joe's jugular in his neck brutally before yanking it out as Joe screaming in pain. Blood splattered out of Joe's neck and planted into Rick's beard, coloring it crimson red. He could taste Joe's flesh and blood in his mouth before spitting it out in rage while Joe collapsed to the ground.

What Rick had done to Joe just showed how much Rick was protective over Carl and how much he loved him. He'd do anything to keep his son safe from the hungry walkers and cruel people. Despite what happened during the war with the Governor and the times Rick overworked his son in the prison, he still was very overprotective and truly loved his son more than anyone and anything in on the planet and in the entire universe.

The Claimers stared in horror while Carl, Wilmur, Daryl, and Michonne stared in shock as they watched Joe's blood soak into Rick's beard while Joe collapsed to the ground screaming in pain as blood spewed out of his neck where Rick had bit him. Slowly, Rick drew out his large and sharp knife out of his belt and prepared to stab Joe to death.

Michonne quickly snapped back into present before grabbing Tony's pistol from his hand when he was distracted and disturbed by what Rick had done before shooting him in the head. Wilmur was the second to act next by quickly yanking his pistol out of his holster and shooting Harley in the head. Daryl slammed his fist against Billy's cheek before smashing his face against the car and letting Michonne shoot him dead.

Wilmur and Michonne quickly pointed their pistols to Dan who had Carl in another death grip with his sharp knife pressed against his throat again.

"I'll-I'll kill him!" Dan yelled, trying to control the squirming teen. "I'll kill him!"

"Let him go!" Wilmur growled, preparing to pull the trigger.

Rick pulled his sharp knife out of Joe's body before making his way over to Dan who was refusing to let go of his son, his light blue eyes filled with more rage he ever had in his entire life.

"He's mine." Rick snarled.

Dan quickly dropped Carl and held his arms above his head, his eyes filled with horror as he begged for his life while Rick made his way over to him with his crimson, bloody knife held in his hand. He screamed as Rick shoved it into his stomach and dragged it up to his chest before yanking it out and stabbing him more than a million times.

Carl quickly rushed to Michonne and jumped into her arms as he glared among the fat man who had tried to rape him while his father stabbed him over an over again without stopping. Wilmur lowered his pistol as he watched blood splatter onto Rick's cheeks, hair, beard, and cloths while he stabbed Dan nonstop without resting.

Wilmur's eyes darted to Carl who was glaring upon Dan as Rick stabbed him millions and millions of times. Carl's eyes did the same and darted to his. Carl's vengeful glare was replaced with love and tears of joy as he stared upon his older lover. All of the rage, anger, and deep frustration inside Wilmur had completely escaped his veins and was replaced with love, desire, and regret as his eyes filled with love and sympathy.

Wilmur dropped his pistol as his bruised knees threatened to buckle while tears of joy filled his eyes filled with love. He made his way over to Carl who was dropped out of Michonne's strong arms before falling into his. Their lips immediately smashed together but collapsed to the road from the strength of their strong kiss.

Their tongues battled strongly with passion, desire, tenderness, and love while it ran through their excited veins. They were finally together again after such a long time. They finally felt their tongues battling and their warm, strong arms trapping them in a warm embrace after being separated.

The passionate kiss filled with desire and love overpowered them as they deepened it, ignoring Daryl and Michonne who was watching them with smiles on their faces while Rick continued to stab Dan hundreds of times. The lovely passion and strong desire traveled across their crimson blood as their tongues continued to battle.

Wilmur deepened the kiss even more gentle nibbled on Carl's tongue before continuing to battle with his. Carl wrapped his arms around his back to deepen the strong kiss. Carl gently bit down on Wilmur's tongue to give him pleasure before battling with his again.

Carl could feel the strong desire fill his blood as the passion sped through his veins like a fast train running against the tracks as it smashed into his heart. He could finally feel the strong love only Wilmur could give to him after feeling empty for too much for too long. All the emptiness he felt inside his mending heart was filling with love Wilmur had given since the day the war with the Governor ended.

Finally, they pulled away and gasped for air before Wilmur lowered his lips to Carl's ear, giving it a gentle kiss. "I told you I would find you."

Carl wrapped his arms around Wilmur's neck and planted it with tiny kisses all the way up to his ear. "I knew you would. Whether we went to Terminus or not."

Wilmur placed his lips against Carl's again and slipped his tongue inside, battling with his as he took in everything. It hadn't been a dream like all the other ones. They were really together this time and were actually holding each other with their sweet breaths brushing against their necks after their warm lips lip locked together with their soft tongues battling.

All of the emptiness Wilmur and Carl had in their hearts for a month was now filled with the same love and desire again as the passion sped through their veins and filled their blood. They wouldn't have to feel empty anymore despite the number of people they lost. They could give each other the strong love and lovely desire they had in the prison after the war with the Governor ended.

Finally, Wilmur pulled himself off Carl and offered him a hand up. Carl smiled and took Wilmur's soft hand, letting the warm surge shoot through him like it always did in the prison. He wrapped his arms around Wilmur's neck and brought him in for another deep kiss before giving him a gentle hug.

Wilmur noticed the wound on Carl's left cheek before gently pressing his lips against it. Instead of bring him pain, it brought him pleasure as Wilmur's lips and tongue drained away the stinging pain. He pulled his lips off it and gently stroked Carl's other cheek before doing the same to his soft lips.

Michonne smiled upon seeing Wilmur and Carl sit in an embrace after such a long time. It made her happy to see the smile return on Carl's lips again like it did at the prison. She knew Wilmur was the only person to make Carl happy even before the prison fell. He was the only would who could soothe his night terrors and place a smile against his lips no matter how hard it was.

Wilmur's eyes darted to Michonne who was standing just behind them. He smiled and gave Carl one last, deep kiss before making his way over to the samurai to hug her. Their arms wrapped around each other's neck waists as they finally embraced. Carl grinned from behind him as he watched his boyfriend and surrogate mother hug.

Carl's tearful eyes filled with tears of joy which was dripping down his cheeks darted to his father who was still stabbing the man who almost raped him. Carl sighed before slowly walking toward him and wrapping his arms around his father's waist to calm him down just like he did with Wilmur when he got too angry or vengeful.

"Dad." Carl said as he whimpered for his father.

Carl's whimpering voice was enough to stop Rick from stabbing the man any longer. He dropped the knife filled with crimson blood and wrapped his arms around his son tightly. He buried his face in his father's chest and sighed as Rick held his son tightly with blood dripping onto his hair and cloths.

"It's over." Carl reassured into Rick's chest. "I'm shocked, too. But it's over. Daryl and Wilmur is here."

Rick trembled as he nodded, pulling away from his son's comforting embrace before making his way over to Daryl, patting him on the back. Daryl smiled at being reunited with his surrogate brother and patted him back before picking up his crossbow stained with blood. Rick gave Daryl a small smile before walking toward Wilmur and wrapping his arms around his bruised and injured body which was covered in blood.

Tears of joy slipped down Wilmur's cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Rick's strong waist. They embraced before nodding to each other. Wilmur turned around to see Carl smiling at him with tears of joy painted over his rosy cheeks. He walked toward him and wrapped his arms around his smaller form before placing his lips against his.

"So what do we do?" Carl asked. "Go to Terminus?"

Wilmur shrugged. "I just want to spend the rest of my life with you which probably won't last long."

Carl shook his head, placing his hand against Wilmur's chest. "I'll protect you just like you protect me."

Wilmur grinned as he pecked Carl on the lips before wrapping his warm arms around him, causing him to flinch. Flashes of the fat man who almost raped him flashed into his mind one by one with each evil laugh. He shook as he stared upon Wilmur's face covered with bruises in fear. Dan's evil laughs echo's in his ringing ears as he felt Wilmur's arms wrap around him tightly just like how Dan held him in a death grip.

Carl began gaping loudly as he stared at Wilmur with fear in his eyes. Wilmur was quick to notice what he was doing and yanked his arms away from his slim body. He quickly grabbed Carl's bloody hands before pulling them to his lips until they were touching them gently.

"It's just me. It's just me." Wilmur reassured as he buried his face in his neck. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Carl's breathing slowed down as he wrapped arms around Wilmur's stronger form. He buried his face deeper into his neck before inhaling his sweet scent. Tears of joy slipped down his rosy cheeks as he felt Wilmur's breath gently brush against his brown hair. Wilmur rubbed his back soothingly to calm him down while he buried his face in his soft hair and took in a deep breath upon inhaling Carl's sweet scent.

Tears of joy soaked into Wilmur's grey flannel covered in stained blood as they embraced warmly. They could smell their sweet scents as fell as the fresh and stained blood covering their dirty and sweaty skin as well as cloths. Their eyes were closed as they clinged onto each other tightly with their lips pressing against their skin.

Wilmur's drooping eyes darted above Carl's shoulders to see Rick and Michonne staring at Carl worriedly. Concern was visible in their worried eyes upon seeing the tears on Carl's cheeks along with the wound soaking it in. His arms were trembling against his body from exhaustion as starvation caused him stomach to growl for food.

"Maybe we should sleep." Wilmur whispered in Carl's ear. "I can tell they're worried about you."

Carl sighed before slowly giving his head a small nod. He took Wilmur's hand in his and stroked the back of it as he led them to the car. Their warm arms wrapped around each other to keep themselves warm from the chilly night. However, it was really because they needed to hold each other again. Their lips needed to be touching as their tongues battled with lovely passion and strong love. The Governor had take that beautiful chance away from them the day he destroyed the prison, but they had managed to gain it back and fight against the Governor's ghosts haunting them.

Wilmur rubbed Carl's shoulder affectionately to soothe him to sleep while trailing tiny and gentle kisses up and down his bruised body. He had flinched a few times, but got used to Wilmur's soft kisses and gentle touches. Wilmur gently as ever kissed his eyelids while he slowly drifted off to sleep with Wilmur pushing the dark thoughts he had on the man who almost raped him out of his mind.

As soon as Carl fell asleep, Wilmur pulled a soft blanket from his backpack and settled it on top of Carl to keep him warm. He wrapped his strong arms around him and buried his face in his neck before closing his drooping eyes. As if sensing his presence, Carl snuggled into Wilmur's chest and buried his face in it before inhaling is sweet scent. Wilmur grinned before dropping a gentle kiss on his forehead and stroking his soft hair.

Michonne opened the car door as quietly as she could so she wouldn't disturb Carl from his peaceful sleep. She silently shut it before gravitating near Wilmur with her hand placed over her sword beside her. She gently stroked Carl's hair in his sleep before rubbing soothing circles on Wilmur's back.

"How did you find them?" Wilmur asked while stroking Carl's cheeks as he slept peacefully. "I didn't see you escape with them."

"I didn't." Michonne replied. "I was on my own for a couple of days. Then I found them in a house eating breakfast together."

Wilmur smiled weakly as he stared down at Carl, stroking his hair when he shifted in his sleep. "Daryl and I was with Beth for a while. We held up in a funeral home, but walkers chased us out of there. Daryl told us to go ahead, so we did. But then this car ran over us and they took Beth. Next thing you know, we were with that stupid group."

Michonne softened her eyes as she gently rubbed tiny circles on Wilmur's bruised shoulders with her thumb. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe not." Wilmur shrugged. "But I was with bad people. If Rick didn't do what he did and Carl got r-raped..."

"But he didn't." Michonne replied. "Rick saved him and we killed them all. Now you and Daryl are with us again. That's all that matters."

Wilmur shrugged in response as he continued to admire Carl while he slept peacefully with no nightmares interrupting. He stroked the blood on his palms gently before doing the same to the wound on his cheek. He gently pressed his lips against the wound before licking it as he pulled away and stroked his soft hair.

Michonne sighed as she watched Wilmur cuddle and snuggle into Carl while he left gentle kisses on his bruised cheeks and chapped lips. She knew she would have to tell him about Carl's night terrors. He was the only one who could fix his nightmares and soothe his frightening tears.

"Hey, Wilmur?" She said.

"Yeah?" Wilmur replied quietly so he wouldn't wake Carl.

Michonne sighed as she glanced at Carl with worry and concern filling her eyes. "Carl's been having night terrors again."

Concern and worry immediately filled Wilmur's drooping eyes as they widened with shock and disbelief. He had soothed him through his night terrors when they were in the prison. He got rid of every single one haunting him by holding and whispering comforting things to him in the night while he kept him warm.

However, Wilmur understood why they would come back. The Governor had destroyed their home they worked so hard to build and killed everyone they fought so hard to protect. All they could do now was run every single day without resting due to worrying about walkers, people, food, water, ammo, and shelter.

"We figured out what they were about." Michonne continued. "They're about you and the Governor. You take the Governor's side and try to kill him and everyone he loves."

Wilmur's eyes widened with shock and disbelief as he watched Carl sleep peacefully. His hands shook and his breath trembled while disbelief was expressed in his wide eyes filled with shock. He squeezed Carl's hand gently and stroked the palm softly before pressing his lips against it, leaving tiny and soft kisses. Blood printed over his lips with each soft kiss he gave on Carl's soft palm.

"But why?" Wilmur's voice was muffled into Carl's bloody palm. "I'm not like my father. I would never do anything to hurt him."

"It's not you. It's the fact your the Governor's son." Michonne explained with a sigh. "After what's your father's done, it frightened him. And your the Governor's son. He has the right to be frightened."

"So he's scared of me?" Wilmur asked with disbelief.

Michonne shook her head, rubbing soothing circles on Wilmur's shoulder with her thumb. "He's not scared of you. He's scared that you're the Governor's son."

Wilmur sighed deeply before bowing his head with tears filling his eyes as he stared upon his younger lover. His eyes were gently closed unlike the times he had a night terror. His breathing was even instead of gasping loudly when he had a terrifying nightmare. His brown hair was damp as it stuck to his face and the wound on his cheek.

Tears slowly dripped down Wilmur's bruised cheeks as he watched Carl sleep peacefully with no horrifying nightmares interrupting his peacefulness. His tears landed against his cheeks as well as the wound on the left one before brushing his fingers against it. He stroked Carl's soft hair gently before placing a gentle kiss against his eyelids.

Crimson blood slid down his cheeks from his open cuts and bruises before landing on Carl's injured cheeks and damp hair. The blood slowly dripped down Carl's cheeks and hair as he slept peacefully. He placed his hands over his wound to stop the bleeding, but it dripped through his bruised fingers and soaked in his bloody palms.

He gently brushed his fingers against the bruises and cuts before wincing at the stinging pain. Blood printed over his swollen fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding seeping through his dark bruises. His knuckles were swollen red from trying to fight against Harley and his feet were sprained from kicking Harley off him harshly. Bruises were plastered over his entire injure body along with deep cuts and fresh wounds. His swollen wrist was broken from Harley's foot smashing against it hard.

His legs were aching from sprinting too fast for too long as well as getting them smashed on by Harley's foot and hard knuckles. A headache was screaming in his head from being smashed against the car and his back ached from being slammed against the hard concrete of the leafy road.

Wilmur ignored the screaming and aching pain in his sore muscles and aching bones while he focused on Carl's sleeping form. He stroked his knuckles softly when he noticed they were swollen and blood soaked into the tiny cuts. Tears and blood continued to fall upon his peaceful face and soak into the bloody wound on his left cheek.

"I would never hurt him." Wilmur whispered. "Why would he have night terrors about it?"

Michonne shrugged as she slowly rubbed soothing circles on Wilmur's back. "You need to remind him you would never hurt him."

"How?" Wilmur sobbed silently. "How am I suppose to tell him that?"

"Do what you did in the prison." Michonne replied. "Hold him. Talk to him. Sing to him. Do whatever it takes like you did in the prison."

Wilmur sniffled and nodded before placing his busted lips against Carl's as he laid next to him, wrapping his strong arm around his shoulder and rubbing his arm affectionately. He planted his soft and damp hair with gentle kisses as he rubbed soothing circles on his back. He buried his face in his neck and inhaled his sweet scent as Carl snuggled into his chest.

Carl could sense the warmth Wilmur was giving him in his peaceful sleep as he snuggled into his chest and buried his face deep into it. He could feel Wilmur's sweet breath gently brushing against his neck as it disturbed his damp hair. He felt his warm hand rub soothing circles on his back while he slowly drifted into a deep slumber.

Joe laughed as he slammed his foot against Rick's ribcage, smashing and crackling each one to pieces as he screamed in pain. He punched both of his eyes hard enough to create dark sags under his black eyes. Rick desperately tried to crawl away from the evil man, but Joe smashed his hard boot against Rick's broken ankle. He shot a bullet in his leg with his Beretta and laughed as Rick screamed in fear and pain.

Carl shrieked with hot tears streaming down his rosy cheeks as he watched his beloved father get beaten alive. His father's blood splattered against his cloths and cheeks with each bullet slamming into his body and each foot smashing against his broken bones. Carl desperately tried to fight Dan's death grip wrapped around his slender body, but he failed to.

Dan's hot breath brushed against his neck and disturbed it as he drooled onto his ear while licking it. He could feel him shushing him in his ears as he pressed his knife against his sobbing throat. He pushed Carl to the hard ground and smashed his foot against his spine. He shrieked in pain as blood seeped through his blue hoodie while Dan sat on top of him and slowly unbuckled his belt.

His eyes darted to Wilmur who was standing alongside Daryl, clenching his crimson machete tightly with rage and anger visible his in crystal blue eyes. He desperately tried to fight off the fat man on top of him as he shrieked in fear and cried for help. Dan laughed mischievously as he pinned his arms above his head and yanked down his pants with his greasy and filthy fingers.

"Stop!" Carl begged as he felt Dan's greasy hands feel around his body under his blue hoodie and blue flannel. "Get off!"

Suddenly, Wilmur began laughing as he watched Dan molest Carl while yanking off every inch of his cloths. He threw it into a burning fire while Wilmur laughed mischievously with evil in his tone. Carl stared in horror as tears filled his swollen eyes while beginning to desperately try to pull away from Dan's grip with Wilmur laughing at him.

"Dad!" Carl cried for help, but as soon as he turned his head, he realized Joe had killed his father. "No!"

Tears stream down Carl's bruised cheeks as Dan pulled off his last bit of clothing. He screamed and cried as Wilmur laughed at him while Dan began to rape him violently. His hot tears grew out of control as they streamed down his cheeks like a rushing river and poured out of his eyes like a waterfall.

Wilmur took a menacing step closer and laughed mischievously as he watched Dan rape Carl. He threw his sheriff hat in the burning fire while laughing too hard. He smirked with evil inside of it while he watched each tear stream down Carl's wet cheeks.

Each and every single laugh escaping Wilmur's throat caused more and more tears to stream down Carl's cheeks wet with a rushing river. He had stopped resisting Dan's hands as he watched Wilmur laugh at him mischievously. He took more menacing steps toward him with each evil laugh.

Carl screamed in fear as tears streamed down his wet cheeks. He closed his eyes as Wilmur's machete grew closer and closer to his stomach which was aching from sobbing. Dan and Wilmur laughed too hard with tears of laughter trailing down their red cheeks

However, instead of Wilmur drawing the knife through Carl's aching stomach, he threw it into Dan's. Dan screamed in pain as he collapsed to the hard road while crimson blood surrounded him as Wilmur began stabbing him hundreds of times. Carl watched in horror with each harsh stab into Dan's bleeding chest and severely injured stomach.

Finally, Wilmur dropped the crimson machete and turned to him. Instead of his eyes being filled with rage and anger, they were filled with desire and love. He suddenly wrapped his warm and strong arms around him and buried his face in his soft hair before inhaling his scent.

"It's okay." Wilmur whispered in his ear as he rubbed soothing circles on Carl's bare back. "I'm here. All you need to do is open your eyes."

Carl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but softened with each comforting word being mummered into his ear. He relaxed against his gentle touches being rubbed up and down his bare back. His sobs slowly went silently as they turned into quiet sniffles with each of Wilmur's comforting words.

"It's okay." Wilmur whispered in his ear as he slowly awoken. "I'm here. No one else is here except me and Michonne."

Carl fluttered his drooping eyes opened and sobbed into Wilmur's chest as his fingers clinged to his grey flannel for life. He buried his face deeper in his chest and inhaled his scent while his hands touched him to make sure he was real. Wilmur rubbed soothing circles on his back while burying his face in his damp hair.

Gentle words were being mummered into his ear as Wilmur's sweet breath brushed against his neck. He sobbed into his chest as his fingers loosed his tight grip on Wilmur's flannel. He wrapped his trembling arms around Wilmur's slim waist as he cried softly in his chest.

"Everything's okay." Wilmur whispered softly. "I'll never hurt you."

Carl slowly pulled away from the warm embrace Wilmur was giving him and wrapped his arms around himself to feel his filthy cloths. He sighed in relief just before Wilmur gently brushed away his tears with his swollen fingers. He flinched under his touch, but relaxed as soon as Wilmur mummered comforting things in his ears.

"You okay now?" Wilmur asked softly, pressing his lips against the tears on his cheeks to kiss them away.

Carl hesitated before slowly giving his head a slow nod while he sniffled. He rested his head against Wilmur's chest again while he began stroking his damp hair. He sniffled and closed his drooping eyes as sleep slowly started to take over him. Despite how exhausted he was, he could barely fall back asleep in Wilmur's warm embrace.

"Go back to sleep." Wilmur whispered. "It's very early."

The younger lover's eyes opened before darting to the window to see the sun was barely in the sky. Stars could still be visible as well as the move which was growing lighter due to the sun rising slowly. Walker snarls could be heard outside the car as Daryl and Rick took watch night long while Michonne was still fast asleep beside them. She could hear every word they were whispering to each other, but chose to stay out of it due to being too exhausted.

Wilmur kept one arm wrapped around Carl's waist while the other was placed against his head to block the small sunlight peeking through the dark sky. He rubbed soothing circles on Carl's back slowly and affectionately while burying his face in his soft hair.

"I'm so tired." Carl admitted. "But I can't."

"Yes, you can." Wilmur whispered, stroking his damp hair. "Just try."

Before Wilmur and Carl could even move, Michonne quickly sat up to stop them from laying down. She could see the black sags under both of their drooping eyes and how pale their faces were due to exhaustion. Stained tears were painted over Carl's dried cheeks as his tears slowly drained from his puffy eyes.

"Lay your head on my lap, Wilmur." Michonne said groggily. "Then Carl can lay on top of you so you both can be comfortable."

Wilmur nodded in agreement before resting his against Michonne's lap. Carl shifted in between Wilmur's bruised legs as his face buried itself in Wilmur's chest. Michonne gently stroked Carl's hair while Wilmur rubbed soothing circles on his back. Slowly, Carl drifted to sleep with Michonne brushing his damp hair from his sweating face while Wilmur watched him sleep peacefully.

He and Michonne could both hear Rick and Daryl talking just outside the car where they had been taking watch all night long without any breaks. Exhaustion could be heard in their groggily and tired, hoarse voices. The two surrogate brothers were not only exhausted from fight against the Claimers last night but from the world as well.

Ever since the day the outbreak started, all they had been doing was running without any breath takes as either a walker herd or a group of terrifying people chased them down. Food became extremely hard to find and water went harsh. No shelter was enough protect them from the chilly nights filled with untiring walkers and horrifying people. Fear and pain had taken the relief and happiness from them.

They were losing everyone they ever loved or cared for one by one in the hands of either sharp teeth or painful bullets. Everyone they loved was losing their suffering lives and creating an empty hole in the hearts of people who cared for them. Pain was the only thing they had left in their normal selves.

Wilmur could see Daryl sitting next to Rick outside the car as they leaned against it while they wiped the blood of their broken knuckles and their crimson palms. He watched each wipe of the washrag against their bloody and swollen hands. He could see the blood dripping from Rick's beard and the blood soaking in Daryl's brown hair.

Carl shifted as Michonne stroked his damp hair while Wilmur rubbed circles on his back. He buried his face deeper in his chest as he listened to his father wipe the wet washrag against his beard filled with blood outside the car. He shivered as he listened to his father's words while he thought about the darkness lurking inside him.

He wanted his father to keep stabbing the man thousands of times. He wanted to watch the crimson blood pour from his body with each stab in the stomach and chest as the man who tried to rape him scream over and over again. His father had said he was a good man the other day, but how could he be good man if he mourned for the most darkest and cruelest things?

"We didn't know what they were." Carl, Wilmur, and Michonne heard Daryl admit about the Claimers.

They could hear the regret in Daryl's hoarse voice. He and Wilmur both regretted agreeing with the evil group to lead them to the person they mourned to kill and be with. In the end, it turned out they had love and hatred for the same person. They were the ones who lead the Claimers to the people they loved.

Daryl and Wilmur's regretful choices resulted in getting themselves almost beaten up to death, close to getting Rick and Michonne shot, and almost having Carl raped. They had caused their own people to almost get brutally killed instead of deciding to leave the evil group as soon as they figured out the cruelty hidden inside them.

"How'd y'all wind up with 'em?" They heard Rick ask Daryl whole he continued to wipe the stained blood from his dirty cheeks and filthy beard.

"We was with Beth." They heard Daryl reply. "The three of us got out together. We were with her for a while."

Carl saddened his eyes as he thought of Beth. The young woman who was like his older sister and comforted him through his toughest times and shined light in his darkness. She and Judith was the only innocent ones left in the cruel and brutal world filled with violence and blood. She was the only one who helped Carl believe in a bright and hopeful future for them.

However, now she was most likely dead. Carl would never see her confident face again or feel the confidence she had given him in the dark past. He would never fill her comfort or hear her sisterly lectures ever again along with her innocence.

"Is she dead?" Rick asked sadly, hoping she was somehow still alive.

"She's just gone." They heard Daryl reply, hearing the sadness and grief in his tone as he thought of one of the people in the world he cared for more than anyone. "After that, that's when they found us. I mean, we knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something'. It was enough."

"And y'all were alone." They heard Rick quickly say.

"Said they were looking for some guy." They heard Daryl shrug off the subject. "They said that-they said that if we helped, they would help us find Carl."

Wilmur sighed deeply with regret visible in his black eyes while he stroked Carl's damp hair who was listening to every word Daryl and Rick were saying. He was shocked that Wilmur was so desperate to find him that he joined an evil group and helped them look for a man they were going to kill just so he could find him.

Carl shivered under Wilmur's soft touches as he thought of the man who had tried to rape him. Wilmur and Daryl had only lead trouble for him and his family. Although he didn't blame them, he couldn't help but think of the darkness they had brought in his cruel and hardened heart. They had only given him dark thoughts upon the Claimers along with a terrifying nightmare which frightened him.

Michonne was in shock as well. She refused to believe two people she truly cared for had lead the Claimers straight to people they mourned to kill only in cold blood so they could find Carl. She knew Wilmur had been desperate to find Carl since the day the Governor separated them after he destroyed the prison.

"Last night they said they spotted him." Daryl continued with regret in his tone. "We were hanging back. We was gonna leave. But we stayed. That's when we saw it was you three. Right when you saw us, we didn't know what they could do."

"It's not on you or Wilmur, Daryl." They heard Rick reply before noticing the disbelief on his face. "Hey. It's not on either of you."

Wilmur knew it was completely and utterly a complete lie. He and Daryl had helped the Claimers track Rick and caused him and Carl and Michonne who was with him nearly to get brutally and horrifyingly killed. Everything was to be blamed upon them since they nearly got their own family killed because they made a selfish deal with the evil Claimers.

"Y'all being back with us here, now, that's everything." Rick continued. "You're my brother, and Wilmur's basically my own son."

Wilmur couldn't help but grin as Rick claimed he was just like his own son. He had been with Rick's son for seven or eight months now. He protected Carl for so long and made him more happier than Rick or anyone else ever could even before the apocalypse. He knew Rick trusted him more than anyone else on the planet to protect his son through all costs and keep a smile over his lips no matter how complicated and frustrating things get.

"Hey, what you did last night..." Daryl started. "Anybody would've done that."

"No, not that." They heard Rick reply.

"Somethin' happened." They heard Daryl say. "That ain't you."

They heard a frustrated sigh escape Rick's hoarse throat. "Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese."

Wilmur sighed deeply before closing his drooping eyes and draping a sprained hand over his bruised forehead with a deep cut on it as he thought of Tyreese. He could remember how he insulted his and Carl's relationship on the run to get medicine for the sick people in the prison because he had just lost his girlfriend. He was frustrated with the romance surrounding him in a corner because all it reminded him was of Karen who was killed by Carol.

However, despite having anger for Tyreese since he insulted his relationship, he had nothing but respect for the innocent and vengeful man. He regretted lashing out at Tyreese after he just lost someone he loved more than anything and anyone in the world. Tyreese had no one left in his family except Sasha who was most likely dead due to the Governor destroying the prison while killing everyone who lived in it.

"It ain't all of it, but that's me." Rick continued. "That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That's all that matters."

Realization hit Carl like a fast train running over a person as reality smashed against him. He realized all his father wanted was to shield him from the damaged and horrifying world and give him a normal life to live. Rick never wanted him to be a ruthless killer who did everything it took to survive. All he wanted for him was to live life as if it was normal, but it was all wishful thinking.

Nothing and no one could bring back Carl's childhood into the terrifying world. The kid he once was before the apocalypse was long gone and replaced with a survival machine who had nothing but blood on his hands whether it was from a human, himself, or from a walker.

Rick had finally realized who and what his son was now after the evil man almost raped him last night. No child could be put through something like that in a destroyed world like they were living in today. The very last innocence had been taken from Carl Grimes.

Carl snapped out of his thoughts as Wilmur began rubbing soothing circles through his hoodie and flannel, causing him to flinch. Wilmur sighed sadly before pulling his hand away and looking him in the eyes with sympathy. He brushed strands of hair hanging down his forehead before gently pressing his busted lips against it.

"You need to sleep." Wilmur whispered in his ear soothingly. "I don't think we'll be moving anytime soon.

Carl sighed before resting his head against Wilmur's chest as he felt his soft palm rub his back affectionately. "I can't. Not after that nightmare."

"I'll be right here." Wilmur whispered. "Just remember that. I'm never leaving you again. I promise you that."

Finally, Carl gave in and nodded before burying his face in Wilmur's chest to block the sunrise shining through the windowsill from hitting his drooping eyes. His breathing evened as Michonne stroked his damp hair while Wilmur rubbed his back soothingly.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep peacefully with no nightmares corrupting it. Wilmur sighed with relief before exhaustion shot through his tired veins and drooping eyes. Blood slowly slid down his bruised cheeks as it stained his pale skin. It landed against Carl's brown hair and dripped onto his blue hoodie, creating damp spots in it.

Michonne's drooping eyes darted to Wilmur as she watched him stare at Carl with love and worry expressed in his tired eyes. She could see the blood sliding down his cheeks with fresh bruises on them before landing against Carl's hair and dripping on his blue hoodie.

She slowly pulled a washrag from his pocket before gently dabbing it on the bleeding wound. Wilmur winced as she harshly rubbed it to stop the bleeding, but let her clean his wound filled with dirt. He squeezed Carl's hand to keep himself from hissing in pain through his gritted teeth.

"You should sleep." Michonne whispered, careful not to wake Carl. "I can tell you're very tired."

"I am." Wilmur chuckled. "But I just can't."

Michonne dragged the rough washrag away from his cut on his cheek before placing it back in her pocket. "That's what Carl just told you, but he fell asleep. So can you."

Wilmur sighed in defeat before burying his face in Carl's hair to inhale his scent as he closed his drooping and tired eyes. He smiled weakly as he held Carl in his arms while rubbing his back soothingly through his jacket and shirt.

Somehow, he still couldn't believe he was finally holding Carl again after their strong love was yanked from their hearts by the Governor and replaced with a huge hole of emptiness. However, their love was now filling their broken hearts and mending the tiny pieces back together.

Michonne smiled weakly as she watched Wilmur and Carl snuggle and cuddle together in their sleep. It warmed her heart to see Carl finally sleeping peacefully as he slept in Wilmur's arms. She could vividly remember how upset Carl was after the fall of the prison because he had doubt he'd be with Wilmur again. But now they were together after the detriment of the prison and through all the violence and blood they were put through on the road.

Despite the amount of evil and disgusting people in the world along with the lack of food and shelter while they survived on the road filled with nothing but danger, blood, and fear, they managed to find each other through all the violence. Although they joined an evil group who wanted to kill them, it managed to bring them all together again even though they brought evil people with them.

Suddenly, the car door quietly opened, causing Carl to shift in his sleep. As if sensing he was uncomfortable, Wilmur tightened his warm grip on him. Daryl quietly stepped in before handing Michonne a machete Billy had in one of his bags. Michonne furrowed her eyebrows before hesitantly accepting the sharp machete.

"Rick and I are goin' on a hunt." Daryl explained. "You need a knife in case anyone else gives us surprises. We're leaving for Terminus when I get back."

Michonne nodded before Daryl stepped out of the car and quietly shut the door to not disturb Wilmur and Carl from their peaceful sleep. Michonne moved the blanket sitting on the window to block the sunlight from getting in as she watched Rick and Daryl disappear into the forest.

She placed the blanket back before pulling the washrag out of her pocket again and dabbed it against the bruises and cuts on Wilmur's bloody cheeks. She removed the dirt from his infected wounds before grabbing Wilmur's bloody knuckles and wiped the crimson blood from them. They were swollen from trying to fight against Harley and his wrist was sprained from trying pull away from his strong arms.

She moved the washrag to the bloody wound on Carl's cheek before beginning to clean it so it wouldn't get infected later on. The rough washrag dragged against the stinging wound as blood and dirt stained against it. She pulled it to his palms which was stained with blood from when Dan injured them.

Birds began chirping in the trees as the sun slowly started rising more and more in the sky, painting it with orange and pink colors. Squirrels started to begin their morning routine as they searched for nuts while bats and raccoons began sleeping. Insects crawled against the leafs on the road and the grass on the side of it as they searched for crumbs to eat.

Like the animals, Rick and Daryl had began their morning routine and searched for any animal in the woods for them to eat. Their stomachs grumbled from starvation and growled for food while their dry tongues begged for water to satisfy it's dyhration. Exhaustion was slowly overpowering them like it overpowered Wilmur and Carl already. Their bodies ached from the wounds the evil Claimers had given them.

Michonne gently stroked Carl's hair one last time before tucking the washrag back in her pocket and stepped out of the car to greet the rising sun. The chilly air hit her exposed skin as the squirrels read back in the woods in fear upon seeing her. She pulled her sword from the car and began cleaning it with the washrag.

Too much blood had colored her sword crimson red from the amount of walkers she killed on the dangerous road. Fresh blood stained against the dirty washrag as she wiped down her sword. After the crimson blood was gone, she wrapped the sword around her back and placed the washrag back in her pocket before sitting against the car.

By the time Rick and Daryl had made it back with no hunted animals, the sun had fully rose in the blue sky speckled with different clouds. Fresh blood was painted over their cloths from when they killed walkers who got in their way. Daryl wiped the blood off his palms with a red washrag while Rick began picking up the Claimers bags.

"Is Carl and Wilmur still asleep?" Rick asked with his hoarse voice.

Michonne nodded. "I'll wake them."

The samurai opened the door to see they cuddled closer together while laying on their sides in a new position. Carl's face was deeply buried in Wilmur's chest as their legs tangled while Wilmur had his face buried deep in his neck. Their breathing was even and their skin was warm from transferring their body warmth to each other.

She sighed with regret in her tone as she began shaking the two boys awake. Wilmur's eyes was the first to flutter open followed by Carl. Black sags were printed under their drooping eyes and despite the wounds they had on their cheeks, it was pale from exhaustion. Carl whined and buried his face deeper into Wilmur's chest before Michonne shook him again.

Wilmur yawned with exhaustion and pushed Carl off him, the warmth once in on his body was hit by the chilly air when he was pushed away. They crawled out of the car weakly with their arms aching from the fight they had with the Claimers. Carl picked up the green bag while Wilmur picked up his own before following behind Michonne who was behind Rick and Daryl.

They made their way back over to the tracks which would lead to Terminus and walked down it in silence. Neither one of them spoke a whisper or word. The birds chirping in the trees on the side of the tracks was the only thing that interrupted the deep silence between them.

Wilmur noticed Carl's shivering hand as the chilly at brushed against it. His eyes darted to his light blue ones to see a slight bit of fear inside them. He knew he was still frightened over what Dan had almost done to him and it made him shudder while he thought about it.

Slowly, Wilmur reached for Carl's hand and gently grasped it, causing him to flinch from the touch while he thought of Dan. The older lover quickly pulled his hand away in regret and bowed his head shamefully. Carl sighed quietly before reaching for his hand and grasping it himself. The warmth of his hand sent a shiver down his spine as the chilly hair was blocked by his warm hand.

The warmth of Wilmur's hand was different than the warmth of Dan's hand. Dan's warmth was too frightening and forceful. It wasn't the warmth of love but the warmth of lust instead. He could still remember the way he laughed mischievously as he pinned him down and unbuckled his belt while his greasy hands felt his body and his hot breath disturbing his neck and hair.

However, Wilmur's warmth was different. His warmth was filled with love instead of lust. It surrounded him in every corner when he was cold, angry, or upset. It comforted him through his most toughest and hardest times through all the blood and gore in the violent world. His warmth cured the pain he had been put through before and replaced it with relief and love.

"You okay?" Wilmur finally interrupted the deep silence.

Carl slowly nodded as he squeezed Wilmur's warm hand for reassurance. "I'm fine. I'm just...glad that man is dead."

Wilmur gently stroked the back of his smooth hand to comfort him while giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Carl. Thanks to me, I put you through that shit."

"No." Carl immediately retorted, squeezing Wilmur's hand. "That's not true. I'm glad we reunited the way we did. I didn't want to go to Terminus without you not knowing if they're bad or not."

"They're probably not." Wilmur replied. "But even if we did reunite at Terminus instead and they were bad, I would protect you. You know that right?"

Carl nodded, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because of your nightmares." Wilmur replied. "Michonne told me they were coming back, and they were about me killing you."

Carl bowed his head shamefully as he felt Wilmur gently stroke the back of his hand. Each horrifying nightmare he had flashed in his mind with each horrific detail flooding before each terrifying flash. He could hear Wilmur laughing with evil in his tone while killing him or watching someone kill him.

"Why in the hell would you ever think I would hurt you, Carl?" Wilmur asked seriously but whispered so Rick or any walkers wouldn't hear their conversation. "I love you more than anyone and anything in the world. I would do whatever it takes to protect you. So why would you think I would want to hurt you?"

"It's not you. It's the Governor." Carl was quick to say. "After everything he's done, after all the people's he's killed...it's like we can't have a happy ending because of him."

"But I'm not him." Wilmur reminded, stroking Carl's hand softly. "I would never hurt you. Ever. I'd rather die than ever do anything to cause you any harm."

Carl continued to bow his head shamefully as Wilmur's hand gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Wilmur. It's not that I think you're going to hurt me. It's just too hard to explain."

Wilmur snuck his hand up Carl's back and rubbed soothing circles on it before wrapping his arm around his slim waist and pulling him in. His palm rubbed up and down his arm soothingly before he pressed his busted lips against his temple. He dragged his lips up to his soft hair and planted it was tiny and soft kisses.

The younger lover sighed with relief as he felt Wilmur's lips upon his skin before resting his head against his neck while they followed behind the small group. Carl sprinkled Wilmur's neck with soft kisses as his hand snaked up his back and ran his palm up and down it.

"I love you." Wilmur whispered softly in his ear. "More than anyone in the world. Don't ever forget that."

Carl planted a kiss just below Wilmur's ear. "I won't. I love you, too."

They wrapped their strong and warm arms around each other as they continued to walk down the tracks filled with nothing but orange and yellow dead leafs while rocks hid under them. The gravel and crunchy leafs beneath their feet crackled with each step they took.

Kisses were planted up and down their necks while they held hands while following the tracks. Their hands snuck up each other's backs and rubbed soothing circles on it. They had almost forgotten where they were until they came across another Terminus sign laying on the ground with dead leafs hovering over it.

Rick brushed the leafs off the sign with his foot to find the same thing Terminus put on all of their signs just like what Wilmur heard on the radio when he was on a run to get medicine for the ill people in the prison. Like the signs, the radio had said it was a sanctuary and community for all people.

"We're getting close." Daryl said as he held his crossbow over his shoulder. "Be there before sundown."

Rick nodded. "Now we head through the woods. We don't know who they are."

Daryl nodded in agreement before taking the lead and heading into the dangerous woods followed by Rick and Carl. Wilmur pulled his pistol out of his holster before following behind his lover with Michonne just behind him. Wilmur stood over Carl protectively as he clenched his pistol tightly in case any walkers or humans gave them expected surprises. He wasn't going to lose him just after he found him.

The birds san their chorus in the green trees while squirrels chewed on their nuts. Woodpeckers nibbled against the brown bark on the trees while rabbits sprinted across the foods as they searched for food. Insects hid under the dead leafs laying on the ground while spiders hanged in their webs.

A fence could be seen in the distance of the thick trees as they grew closer and closer to Terminus. Cotton webs and green vines were hooked to the fence while cocoons hang from them with a growing butterfly in it. Some stained blood droplets had been printed against the fences from a walker herd when they came through.

Through the fences was a big brick building with the sign Terminus painted on it. Several little buildings laid beside it along with a yellow constructive truck. No people could be seen through the fences surrounding Terminus and protecting it from walkers who could chew their way through.

Rick dropped his blue bag as he stared upon the empty sanctuary. No guards protecting the sanctuary could be seen as well as normal people walking around the buildings. He wasn't sure if people were inside the buildings or dead. He hoped they were somehow still alive and trustworthy because they needed a warm bed, some food, water, weapons, ammo, and a place for his son to rest in and have a normal life along with Wilmur.

"We all spread out, watch for a while, see what we see, and get ready." Rick told his family as he clenched his pistol tightly. "We all stay close."

Daryl nodded and disappeared in the woods as he began to watch Terminus from a certain distance. Wilmur glanced at Carl as he slowly began to walk away from his father who he always wanted to be with. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but followed after his boyfriend. There was no way he was going to let Carl out of his sight again.

Rick was quick to notice his son was walking away from him. "You wanna stick with me?" He asked.

"It's all right." Carl replied as he followed after Michonne with Wilmur just behind him.

Carl needed his father more than anyone in the world, but he couldn't be with him after the dark thoughts circled around his head while he watched his father stab the man who tried to rape him last night. His father was proud of he was, but he couldn't be. He wanted his father to keep stabbing the man over and over again as he watched the crimson blood splatter against the dead leafs on the road.

How could his father be proud of he is if he had the most darkest and most cold thoughts out of anyone in the brutal group? He was just another monster like the Claimers who attacked them. He had never wanted to watch someone die so horrifyingly and brutally while they slowly and painfully suffered.

"Why didn't you go with your dad?" Michonne asked and Carl shrugged. "When I told you about Andre, you never asked how he died."

"I knew why." Carl replied.

Michonne nodded. "Yeah, but the how is important."

Wilmur began listening to Michonne's story as well as Carl. He didn't have to guess who Andre was. He somehow knew Michonne had a child before the outbreak started, but he never wanted to talk to her about it since it would only bring depressing memories. It would only remind him of how he lost Penny because of Kevin and then how he lost his father because the evilness inside him ripped him away from who he once was.

All Wilmur could manage to do was fight through the pain and clear room in his heart for more to come. He had already lost everyone he loved except for Carl just like Michonne. They had both lost someone they truly loved because of betrayal and they both shut down until they ran across Carl who brought them both back from the darkness inside them.

"We went to a refugee camp. Andre and my boyfriend, Mike that was Andre's father and our friend Terry." Michonne began her story. "At the camp, it just got worse and worse. People were leaving. People giving up. But I didn't."

Wilmur sighed as he remembered the apartment he and his father stayed in with eight other people with them after Penny died when the outbreak started. They starved nearly to death and almost died from the strong heat surrounding them in the tiny apartment they closed themselves in to be protected from the dead.

Everything had only gotten worse over time before it finally got better. Some of them slowly started leaving the apartment to go on runs for food and water. They began to run across other survivors who were trying to push through the new world. They brought more and more survivors home with them every time some of them went on a dangerous run.

They then slowly left the apartment and traveled to Woodbury to find it empty of people and walkers. Guards watched over it at night while others went on runs to find anything to held them build a wall around the old town. Once they did, they started going on runs to search for more people who could build their town together.

"I was coming back from a run." Michonne continued as tears slowly slid down her cheeks at the memory. "I saw the fences were down. I heard the moans. It was over."

Flashes of the prison falling because they Governor destroyed it flashed one by one in Wilmur's mind. He could remember the day they came back from the run to give medicine to the ill people which saved their lives. However, they all died anyway the very next day because the Governor destroyed everything they had.

He tore down the fences with his tanks and shot canons toward their buildings which demolished it to smoke and fragments. Walkers had busted in and started tearing flesh apart with their sharp teeth while the Governor and his army tore down their innocent people with bullets and canons.

Everything was over the second the Governor marched to their fences. All of the things in the prison they worked so hard to build and all the people they fought so hard to protect was utterly gone. There was nothing they could do to save their home from the evil and violent man as soon as he visited their fences.

"And Mike and Terry, they were high when it happened." Michonne continued with shame in her shuddering tone. "They were bit. I could of stopped it. Could of killed them. But I let them turn. I made it so they couldn't bite, couldn't scratch. I tied chains around their necks. It was insane. It was sick."

Wilmur remembered his father kept Penny after she turned to a walker without him knowing. He tied her to a chain and locked her in a vent in his office because he couldn't face what had happened to her. He fed and brushed her hair everyday even though she was no longer Penny but a monster instead.

Instead of accepting Penny was gone, he told himself she was terribly ill because he couldn't let her go. He let Milton try to figure out a cure so he could use it to cure Penny, but she was dead and gone from the world the day she died although he refused to believe it.

The day Michonne killed the monster Penny had become was when the Governor shoved all the evil into his heart and pushed out everything that made him who he once was. He grew the desire to kill everyone who disagreed with him because he lost his beloved daughter.

"I felt like what I deserved, dragging them around so that I'd always know." Michonne continued while shuddering from the dark memories. "I found out that they kept me safe. They hid me. The walkers didn't see me anymore. I was just another monster. And I was. Me. I was gone for a long time."

Wilmur sighed deeply as he remembered the heartless monster of Justin he turned into after Penny died. He lost all hope in believing in a bright future and threw every one of his feelings away. He created a monstrous shield around him broken heart to block the feelings from getting in.

The real him was gone for a very long time. All of his emotions and feelings were completely and utterly numb in his heartless soul which had only created a dark monster. Nothing could heal him from the endless pain inside his numb and monstrous heart. The strong shield wrapped around him had destroyed everything he once was before the outbreak.

However, the day he Carl told him to open his eyes had changed everything. The monster of Justin had disappeared to the love and care of Wilmur all because Carl had made him realize the truth. After he lost everything and everyone, Carl was the gift he had received after all the evilness inside his heart.

"But then Andrea brought me back." Michonne told Carl. "Your dad brought me back. You did."

Carl bowed his head as Michonne's words sank into his dark head while Wilmur rubbed his shoulder softly from behind. He could remember the monster he had become the day he killed the boy in the woods during the war with the Governor. Ever since then, he had become a monster just like how Michonne did in the past.

"I see how you been looking at your dad." Michonne told Carl. "You don't have to be afraid of me, or Wilmur, or him."

Shame and guilt filled Carl's eyes as they darted to the ground shamefully. "He told me the other day that he was proud of me. That I was a good man. But I'm not."

"Carl." Michonne said but is immediately interrupted.

"I know more now. About what he wanted for me." Carl continued. "And I tried, but...I still have these thoughts. I'm not what he thinks I am. I'm just another monster, too."

Tears slowly slid down Michonne's cheeks as she embraced Carl. She held him tightly in her strong arms as she felt his arms wrap around her waist. Her tears drip onto his jacket, making damp spots as she placed her chin over his soft hair.

Wilmur sighed before making his way over to Carl, wrapping his arms around his slim waist. He buried his face in his neck and inhaled his scent as he rubbed soothing circles over his side. He hated the insulting thoughts Carl had on himself. None of what he thought was true. Despite the dark thoughts Carl had and the terrible things he had done in the past, he wasn't a monster.

"You're not a monster." Wilmur whispered in Carl's ear as he rubbed his side soothingly. "You may have those dark thoughts, but that man deserved every violence he got. Don't be ashamed of it."

Carl shook his head. He refused to be proud of what he was. "Those thoughts are not good, Wilmur. You shouldn't want to watch someone day painfully, right?"

Wilmur stroked Carl's soft hair gently before dropping a kiss in the crook of his neck. "If they're evil, then it's okay to have thoughts like that. It's normal now. If someone killed you, I would want to watch that person suffer."

"He's right." Michonne agreed as she rubbed soothing circles on Carl's back. "Those men were evil. They deserved to die. It's not your fault if you wanted to watch them die. Especially after what they've done."

Unbeknownst, Rick was watching the three of them embrace in the distance. His eyes saddened as when he noticed the regret and sadness in Carl's light blue eyes. Finally, he managed to pull his eyes off them before picking the blue bag he dropped off the ground and began digging a hole for the bag just in case Terminus turned out to be something else than what they say it is on the signs.

Meanwhile, Wilmur, Carl, and Michonne were watching Terminus from a distance like Rick told them to do. Their pistols were clenched tightly in their fists as they stared upon the unknown sanctuary which was empty for an unknown reason. Everyone was either inside or dead. If the people were inside, they wouldn't be able to tell if they're trustworthy or not.

However, whether Terminus was what they wanted it to be or not, Wilmur swore to protect Carl from the strangers hiding inside the buildings. He wasn't going to lose him against like he lost him at the prison when the Governor destroyed their home. He refused to ever let Carl out of his sight again. Wherever Carl went in the dangerous world, he would be right behind him. Nothing and no one was going to hurt his younger lover ever again. He'd kill anyone who try.

Wilmur wrapped his strong arm around Carl's waist, causing him to flinch but relaxed when he saw it was just his older lover. His tight grip on the pistol loosened as the warmth Wilmur gave him slowly calmed him down. His light blue eyes scanned the buildings of Terminus to find it utterly empty with no people, yet no walkers either.

Carl feared the residents in Terminus would be just like the Claimers they had came across last night. He didn't want to deal with another dangerous and evil group again, but he knew they were bound to in the future whether it was Terminus or not. All he could do was hope Terminus was what the sanctuary said it would be on the signs against the track. He was tired of running every single day from walkers herds without any food in their stomachs or water on their tongues as exhaustion shot through them.

He wanted to be able to relax again like he was able to in the prison. He didn't want to live in fear everyday but in relief and happiness instead. The fear and starvation exhausted him from running too much every single moment in everyday. The night terrors had only managed to cause more trouble for them on the road because it attracted thousands of herds.

Terminus could be their solution, but he knew he had to be cautious after last night. The residents who lived in Terminus could be just as evil and disgusting as the Claimers. He knew he had to be prepared for what they could be just like his father was prepared.

Michonne clenched her sword tightly in case any walker appeared while watching Terminus cautiously. She wanted to be prepared just like Rick was in case they turned out to be evil. Although she desperately needed and wanted sanctuary, she knew she had to be cautious in case they turned out to be someone else than what they say on the signs.

"It's time." Daryl's voice rang out of nowhere, causing the three of them to flinch. "We're gonna jump the fence."

The three of them nodded as they followed after the archer who was holding his crossbow tightly. Rick stood in the middle of the woods with all of the bags they collected from the Claimers buried in the ground in case things went bad. His pistol was tucked in his belt along with a couple of sharp knives.

"If things go back, we'll jump the fence again." Rick told them. "No matter what, we stay together. It don't matter what they tell us to do. Stay together."

They gave their heads small nods before following Rick over to the dirty fences. Rick was the first to climb up who was followed by Michonne and then Carl who Wilmur was helping lifting up. Daryl jumped over last as he clenched his crossbow tightly when they landed in Terminus's territory. Nothing but silence was filling the dead, rotten air due to no people seen outside. No walkers could be seen either but the place was clean enough to live in.

Wilmur stood over Carl protectively with his hand clenching his pistol tightly while his other hand was placed against Carl's back as they followed Rick down Terminus. Each of them were clenching their weapons tightly as fear and nervousness filled their veins and spread through their trembling bodies.

They quietly sprinted to a door, hesitating before deciding to run through it. They could hear a woman's voice speaking in a microphone calmly as she said the same thing over and over again like it said on the signs against the tracks when they were on the dangerous road.

Wilmur stood in front of Carl protectively just like he did with Beth before someone kidnapped her before they hesitated while running inside the building. The woman's voice in the microphone grew louder and louder as they snuck down a hallway quietly. They could hear the sounds of quiet chattering behind the woman's voice as she gave the speech about their sanctuary.

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive." They heard the elderly woman say on the microphone when they stepped inside the room filled with people. "Terminus, sanctuary for all. Community for all."

"Hello." Rick stepped toward the woman before interrupting her speech she gave in the microphone while he turned to the people working in front of him. "Hello!"

Wilmur took a step in front of Carl in effort to protect him in case anything happened while the elderly woman took off her headphones and placed them against the table when she noticed strangers had just stepped into their community. He darted his stern eyes forward to see strangers working at grey tables.

One of the people looked familiar to Wilmur. He had recognizable brown hair and noticeable brown eyes when he turned his body as soon as he noticed they were in the same room as them. Shock and worry filled everyone's eyes the second they laid upon them. They had stopped working in the unpleasant presence of strangers before their eyes darted to their leader with brown hair.

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch." The young man with brown hair and brown eyes scoffed in annoyance before taking a few steps toward them, causing Wilmur to shove Carl behind him protectively although he felt like he recognized the man. "You here to rob us?"

"No." Rick replied. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

The man with brown hair and brown eyes Wilmur felt like he's seen before grinned as he glanced back at his people who were hesitantly working in the presence of strangers. The man's brown eyes darted to him and squinted just like his did. Wilmur narrowed his eyes as he desperately tried to figure out who the man was as he stood in front of Carl protectively. The man's brown eyes returned to stare upon Rick as he smiled weakly.

"Makes sense. Usually we do this where the tracks meet." The young man said, walking toward them while his eyes continued to narrow at Wilmur, but kept the same smile on his face. "Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth. Look's like you've been on the road for a good bit."

"We have." Rick replied with exhaustion in his tone. "Rick. That's Carl, Wilmur, Daryl, Michonne."

Gareth's narrowed eyes filled up with shock as his pupils began to relax. "Wilmur? I thought I recognized you!"

Wilmur's eyebrows furrowed in confusion along with everyone else. Worry filled Carl and Michonne's eyes while suspiciousness filled Daryl and Rick's eyes. Their eyes had been darted between Wilmur and Gareth as their bodies began to tense. They clench their fists tightly as they stared between Wilmur and Gareth who had known each other before the outbreak.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Wilmur questioned, deciding not to mention he recognized him as well.

Gareth grinned as he took a few steps toward him. "It's Gareth! I knew your mother. We worked in that furniture factory together and she brought you to work with her a few times, remember?"

Shock immediately filled Wilmur's eyes as he finally realized who Gareth was. He could remember when he was younger, his mother would bring him and Penny to work with her sometimes when they had no school and had nothing else to do. Sometimes he helped around the factory. His mother often told him to help Gareth when she was unable to.

After his mother died, he had stopped going to the furniture factory. Ever since then, he hadn't saw Gareth up until now. Although he knew Gareth, he still didn't trust him because they hadn't known each other too much to be friends. His mother was great friends with him, but he still didn't have it in him to trust the young man anymore.

Somehow, he was similar to the Governor. He had tricked people by being nice and friendly while he let people in his community just like Gareth had been doing. In the end, the Governor had lied about who he was and shown the monster he had become. Dozens of people died because of him. Now he was meeting up with another man who appeared to be nice and friendly while he welcomed people in his sanctuary.

"Yeah, I remember you." Wilmur replied, eyes filled with shock. "God, it's been so long."

"I know." Gareth agreed, keeping the same grin on his lips. "You, your mother, and sister stopped coming for some reason. What happened?"

Wilmur sighed deeply as he remembered the day his beloved mother died while tears began to fill his eyes. "She's dead."

Gareth's eyes filled with shock as he stumbled back. He hadn't known Wilmur and Penny well, but he knew their mother who was a very nice and sweet woman. She always strived to stay positive in the factory no matter how harsh and strict their boss was when it came to moving furniture. It always made their sprained wrists exhausted and Gareth always complained, but Wilmur's mother refused to stay negative like he did. She helped people in the factory push through the sore pain in their ankles and wrists from moving heavy stuff too much during the day.

Now she's was dead and could no longer be positive like she once was in the factory. She couldn't be with her children or husband anymore like she once was. All of her positive thoughts and innocent strength was gone from their cruel world and could never come back again.

"What about Penny?" Gareth asked, his eyes still filled with shock.

Wilmur shook as he remembered his younger sister who he loved very much while the tears in his eyes grew harder to fight off. "She's dead, too."

Gareth bowed his head as grief filled his brown eyes. "And your father?"

The tears in Wilmur's eyes immediately disappeared and replaced with rage and anger as his fists clenched while he thought of his evil father who only caused him pain and misery. He had killed almost everyone he loved. It was because of his father, Penny had died because he had sat on the road in shock while Kevin through her on a walker when Wilmur couldn't save her. Then he killed Andrea who became his surrogate mother and then Milton who was innocent to the world. After they're deaths, he marched up to the prison fences seven months later and killed Hershel who saved his life many times and killed everyone he loved who lived in the prison.

He felt nothing but hatred for his father who was long gone the day the apocalypse started. All of his love and care he had for his father left because he placed Justin's heart inside of him and his father had gone completely and utterly evil. The love and care was replaced with hatred and rage the day the outbreak destroyed the world.

"He's dead and I'm glad he is." Wilmur replied coldly.

Gareth furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but softened them when he noticed the angry tears visible in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your losses. I don't understand how it feels but I know it hurts."

Wilmur fiercely glared as he clenched his fist a fought against the growls trying to ripple passed his gritted teeth. Carl took a step forward and placed his hand over his bruised shoulder, rubbing it gently with his thumb. Wilmur sighed deeply and relaxed his tensed body as he felt Carl rub his shoulder softly. His fists loosened and his chapped lips closed as his anger slowly began to calm down along with his draining tears.

Finally, Gareth turned his attention away from Wilmur and focused on Rick who had a deadly glare in his suspicious eyes. His eyes kept darting between Gareth and Wilmur suspiciously as he clenched his fights too tightly, causing his bloody palms to turn purple. However, passed the glare in Rick's ice cold eyes, he could see the fear and nervousness. Despite Wilmur knowing who Gareth was, he still wasn't sure about the strange man who still smiled even though they were complete strangers to him.

"You're nervous. I get it. We were all the same way." Gareth told Rick with a grin on his lips, taking a few steps forward. "We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?"

Rick hesitated before slowly giving his head a nod as his eyes darted between Wilmur and Gareth. "Yes."

"Good. You found it." Gareth replied, turning his head to another man behind him who was still working. "Hey, Alex. This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer."

Alex stood beside his brother but flinched under Rick's death glare. Nervous sweat dripped down his temples as the glare in Rick's eyes strengthened as he moved behind his brother to block the death glare from surrounding him. Gareth turned his head to see Alex behind him before turning his head back to Rick who was glaring fiercely at his brother. He had noticed the nervous sweat dripping down Alex's cheeks.

Gareth hesitated before turning back to Rick who was glaring upon him along with Wilmur. "Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you."

Wilmur gritted his teeth again as his fists clenched while his bruised eyes darted to Carl who was standing beside him with worry expressed in his eyes. His thumb was still softly rubbing his bruised shoulder as he stared at his father for permission. Wilmur softened his eyes as he stared upon his younger lover before his protectiveness rushed through his boiling veins.

If Wilmur put down his weapons, he'd have no way to protect Carl if they were dragged into a death trap. He had swore to protect Carl at all costs even if he lost his own life. With no weapons, he was a useless guardian to Carl just like he was back at the prison after the Governor destroyed it. Wilmur wanted refuse to place all of his weapons against the ground where he could no longer grab them, but he knew it would most likely cost their lives.

Rick's eyes darted between Gareth and Wilmur who was tensed under their presences. Like Wilmur, he wasn't sure if he trusted the strangers fully despite knowing one of them. The Governor had been a good man before the outbreak, but he had turned evil and cruel the day everything started. What if Gareth was the same? What if Gareth had lured them into a trap like the Governor did with many of his residents?

Finally, Rick gave his head a hesitated nod while letting out a sigh. "All right."

Each of them hesitated before slowly placing each of their weapons on the floor. They slowly laid down each weapon one by one while hesitating as their breaths trembled from fear. Once their weapons were on the floor, they held their arms above their heads for Alex to check them in case they kept any weapons on them.

Carl's eyes darted to Wilmur with worry expressed in it. He could see the vengeful glare in his crystal blue eyes as he held his arms above his head for Alex to check. He then darted them between him and Gareth as they watched them narrow their suspicious eyes upon staring down one another.

Carl wasn't sure if he trusted Gareth or not even though Wilmur knew who he was. However, almost everybody changed the day the outbreak started just like the Governor changed. If Gareth was just like the Governor, they had been lured into a trap just like the rabbit was lured in Rick's snares yesterday morning.

"I hate to see the other guy." Alex said as he patted down Daryl who had no weapons on him, noticing the bruises plastering over his injured skin.

"You would." Rick replied.

Alex made his way over to Wilmur and began patting him down for any weapons in case he was hiding any. He noticed the dark bruises darkening his pale skin which was covered in his blood. Wilmur shot Alex a glare as he patted him down for weapons he could be hiding.

Wilmur tensed as Alex started patting Carl down. He shot Alex a death glare as a warning while he patted down Carl who was tensing under his touches which was similar to Dan's.

"They deserve it?" Alex questioned Carl when he noticed the wound on his cheek.

"Yes." Carl immediately answered.

Rick furrowed his eyebrows at his son's brutal cruelty to the violent world before continuing to glare at Gareth who kept narrowing his brown eyes toward Wilmur.

"Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people, but aren't not stupid either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid" Gareth said. "As long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions."

Wilmur shot Gareth a glare as he clenched his fists tightly. How could Gareth trust them despite knowing only him? Everyone in the damaged world had gone brutal, cruel, and evil. You could hardly trust anybody anymore without getting killed or almost getting killed. If they just accepted people in their sanctuary, someone evil would eventually sneak in and destroy everything if the Terminus residents weren't already cruel.

One by one, Alex handed each of their weapons back to them but hesitated while doing so due to the death glares surrounding him. They clenched their weapons tightly as they glared upon the strangers while staring between Wilmur and Gareth. Growls threatened to ripple out of their chests and break through their gritted teeth.

Alex nervously gave them back their weapons as death glares surrounded him. "Follow me."

Wilmur shot Gareth one last death glare before following Alex out of the building. He kept his arm wrapped around Carl's slim waist protectively while rubbing it to give him reassurance as they followed Alex outside.

"So how long's this place been here?" Daryl asked.

"Since almost the start." Alex answered. "When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place. I think it was instinct, you know? Follow a path. Some folks were heading to the coast, others out west or up north, but they all wound up here."

A strange scent filled their nostrils which didn't smell normal. It wasn't the smell of rotten flesh or a walker's rotten body, nor a dead body. However, the strange smell was unusual although it made their mouths water. As they grew closer, they noticed the strange smell was some kind of meat a woman was cooking on a grill.

Their tongues drooled at the sight of food they hadn't seen in weeks. Their stomachs grumbled in starvation and growled for the food the smiling woman was serving. Their legs began to tremble from the strange smell of the food as drool threatened to spill from their dry mouths.

Wilmur narrowed his eyes at the woman as he stood in front of Carl protectively. His eyes darted to the food which smelled strange as the scent filled his nostrils. He wasn't sure if he wanted to eat it because he didn't trust the residents. His fear and protectiveness over Carl was mixing in his veins as he desperately tried to figure out who the residents were and if Gareth had changed.

All he wanted to do was protect Carl from the evil and cruel people in their brutal world. Trust was one of the most rarest things to find in people. Almost everyone in his past had betrayed him and he was determined not to let it happen to him again. More than anything in the world, he just wanted to protect Carl from the evil and darkness in their damaged world.

"Hi." The woman said with a smile upon her lips. "Heard you came in the back door. Smart. You'll fit right in here."

Alex nodded in agreement. "Hey, Mary, would you fix each of these folks a plate for me?"

While Mary began to fix a plate for each one of them, Wilmur's eyes scanned the area to see an orange backpack he was familiar with. A woman was wearing the same kind of poncho Wilmur and the run team wore when they went on runs back at the prison. Another person was wearing riot gear which had came from the prison.

His eyes began to fill with worry as he began to notice each of the supplies the residents had came directly from the prison. Someone from the prison had came to Terminus, but he couldn't find a single clue of them as his eyes began to scan the area for his friends he was separated from when the prison. None of them could be seen as his eyes slowly darted to the meat Mary was cooking on the grill which gave off a strange scent.

"Why do you do it?" Michonne asked Mary while Wilmur's eyes scanned the strange area. "Why do you let people in?"

Alex shrugged. "The more people become a part of us, we get stronger. That's why we put up the signs, to invite people in. It's how we survive."

Wilmur scoffed at the statement as worry filled his eyes while he stared upon the food which gave off a strange scent he's never smelt before in his life. He watched Mary place the unusual meat on a plate while horror began to fill his worried eyes as they scanned the familiar area.

The meat Mary was grilling on the grill wasn't normal but instead, utterly unusual. No meat had either gave off the strange scent in his entire life. No other smell could compare to the strange scent the meat gave off itself as it grilled. The unusual meat had not only gave off a strange scent but also appeared to be different than most other's.

Horror and shock replaced the worry in his eyes as Alex handed the plate with strange meat on it over to Carl. Just as Carl was about to place the meat on his dry tongue, Wilmur quickly smacked it out of his hand as well as the plate. Worry filled Carl's eyes as well as everyone else's while Wilmur gave them a shocked expression in his eyes which was filled with horror.

"Is there something wrong?" Alex asked as sweat began to trickle down his cheeks while he breath began to tremble.

Wilmur shot him a death glare while Rick suddenly smashed the other plate of the strange meat out of his hands and held him firmly in a tight grip. Carl yanked his pistol out of his holster along with Wilmur before noticing the watch Rick had pulled out of Alex's pocket. The familiar watch had belonged to Glenn after Hershel given it to him to keep track of time.

Not only Gareth had Glenn hostage but other people they knew as well due to the poncho and riot gear they had on them. A death glare was sentenced in their suspicious eyes as they glared upon Glenn's watch which was hidden in Alex's pocket but now held in a firm grip in Rick's fist.

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick growled before noticing all of the heavy guns being aimed toward them.

Wilmur quickly shoved Carl behind him as soon as the suspicious residents pointed fully loaded machine guns toward them. He clenched his pistol tightly as he gritted his teeth to keep the growls from escaping his chest. Carl glared upon the residents as they aimed their guns to his forehead, but was blocked off by Wilmur's shielding body.

A quiet growl managed to ripple out of Wilmur's chest as he shielded Carl's smaller body from the machine guns with their pistols aimed toward one of them while Michonne and Daryl guarded them from behind. A man on top of one of the roofs aimed their sniper rifle down toward Rick who was clenching Alex tightly in a firm grip.

"You want answers? You want anything else? You get 'em when you put down the gun." Alex said with a nervous breath as sweat trickled down his temples and slid down his cheeks.

Rick flustered in anger as his veins boiled with rage while he yanked Alex the other direction and toward the man who was aiming wrong down upon them with his sniper rifle. "Is see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. How good's his aim? Where'd you get the watch?"

Alex stared upon the man on the roof who had a sniper rifle with worry while nervous sweat trickled down his temples and cheeks as his breath trembled under Rick's tight grip. Fear and worry was expressed in his eyes as Rick's pistol pressed against his sweating temple. His eyes stared upon the sniper rifle with horror and worry when he realized the man was aiming it the wrong way.

"Don't do anything! I have this! You just put it down!" Alex tried to tell the sniper man as calmly as he could, but the man refused to lower it much to his frustration. "You put it down!"

The sniper man finally did as told and lowered the rifle with worry filling his eyes while he stared upon Rick's pistol pressed against Alex's sweating temple and Wilmur who was guarding Carl protectively. Daryl and Michonne were guarding themselves as they stood behind Wilmur and Carl who was aiming their pistols toward the residents with their supplies.

Meanwhile, Alex was trembling with nervous sweat soaking into his cheeks as Rick pressed his pistol against his temple. He tried to fight against his tight grip, but Rick was stronger.

"You want to listen to us." Alex warned. "There's a lot of us."

Rick growled with frustration. "Where did you get the watch?"

"I got it off of a dead one. I didn't think he'd need it." Alex replied nervously.

Rick scoffed as he pointed his body toward the residents who had their supplies from the prison. "What about the riot gear? The poncho?"

Before Alex could say another lie, Gareth had interrupted their tensed situation. A mischievous glare was expressed in his eyes along with his deadly smirk as Wilmur began to aim his pistol toward him with his body still shielding Carl's. He shot Gareth a death glare as he clenched his pistol tightly with growls rippling from his chest. Gareth simply smirked mischievously as his the glare in his eyes darted to Rick. The man obviously was no longer who he once was before the apocalypse.

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop." Gareth told Rick was a mischievous smirk upon his lips. "Found the poncho on a clothesline."

Alex trembled as nervous sweat dripped on his shoulders slowly upon seeing his brother's glare. "Gareth, we can wait."

"Shut up, Alex." Gareth growled.

Rick glared upon Gareth's strange appearance once he noticed the mischievous smirk upon his lips and the vengeful glare in his brown eyes. "You talk to me."

"What's there left to say?" Gareth questioned as he smirked. "You don't trust us anymore. Not even Wilmur."

Wilmur glared as his finger grew closer to the trigger against his pistol before taking one more step closer to Gareth as his entire body covered Carl's smaller one. If they were going to hurt him, they'd have to shoot him down first before they could do anything to Carl at all. He refused to budge when it came to protecting his boyfriend. He'd rather die before he'd let anything terrible happen to Carl.

The younger lover had noticed how Wilmur moved completely in front of him so no bullet could get to him. Worry filled his eyes upon seeing his older lover in danger before taking a tiny step from behind Wilmur's back so he wouldn't be fully shielding him anymore. He couldn't lose him again after he just got him back. He swore to protect Wilmur just like he swore to protect him.

Alex trembled as the smirk on Gareth's lips grew larger. "Gareth."

"Shut up." Gareth growled toward his brother who was held tightly in Rick's firm grip. "It's okay. It's okay."

Wilmur strengthened his glare upon Gareth's lack of care for his brother. He could tell all Gareth wanted was to conquer Rick's group like the Governor wanted to. Just like the Governor, Gareth had tricked people with his nice and friendly side and lured them into a death trap they couldn't escape just like the Governor had done.

Gareth smirked again upon seeing Wilmur's glare strengthen before turning his attention toward Rick. "Rick, what do you want?"

"Where are our people?" Rick questioned as anger and rage boiled his veins.

Gareth simply continued to smirk with his palm held up and bawling into a fist. "You didn't answer the question."

Suddenly, gunshots ring in their ears as soon as Rick threw Alex toward the bullets. Wilmur quickly shoved Carl behind him as he began shooting toward the men with machine guns with Carl and Rick doing the same. Bullets passed their bruised shoulders as they dodge the quick bullets.

Carl shot just above Wilmur's bruised shoulders as he desperately tried to control his panic along with Rick while Wilmur shielded him from the flying bullets. Rick yelled for Carl as she shoved him and Wilmur away from the bullets flying through the dangerous air in effort to protect them.

They quickly rushed away from the shooting residents, but is followed by men on the roof who were shooting toward their sprinting feet. Wilmur shoved Carl ahead as he shot right after his injured shoulders toward the men on the roofs who was shooting down at them. Carl sprinted ahead with Wilmur's hand placed on his lower back as he desperately tried to sprint as fast as he could to keep the bullets from hitting his feet.

Men with fully loaded machine guns surround them as they quickly shot the painful bullets toward their feet. Wilmur shoved Carl the other way along with Rick who was guarding them while Daryl and Michonne sprinted ahead. The Terminates shot down at them above the roofs on the buildings of Terminus as they desperately tried to contain them.

However, they refused to stop sprinting in every direction where they were surrounded no matter how hopeless it was. They continued to sprint down the concrete being shot up by bullets as they quickly rushed into a building while they shot at the men. The garage doors surrounding the building close upon them with no other way out.

Daryl panicked as he darted his angry eyes to a door. "Here!"

They quickly rushed over to the bar door and desperately tried to open it, but it was firmly locked. Rick immediately turned his body to see another door with an A written on it. Wilmur shoved Carl ahead of him in case any other men with machine guns managed to break in.

Gunshots were immediately fired as soon as they stepped out of the building which was shielding them from the bullets. Bullet holes printed against the brick building and the cars surrounding it as they shot against it. Rick placed his hand over Wilmur's lower back to shove him and his son ahead in effort to protect them from the bullets surrounding them in every corner.

They sprinted down an alley of buildings as men from the rooftops shot down at them from above. Wilmur continued to shove Carl ahead as hard as he could to protect him from the dangerous bullets as they sprinted as fast as they could. They sprinted passed a fence filled with bones covered in crimson blood as the bullets shot toward them from above the rooftops.

Train cars flew passed them as they sprinted down the alleys with people begging for help in them. They hesitated as they heard the people cry for any help, but continued to run in effort to protect themselves from the flying bullets in the dangerous and rotten air.

Wilmur shoved Carl ahead of them as he slammed a door shut after they had ran in another building. It had been filled with nothing but lit candles. Names were printed in black under the candles used as graves to honor the memory who died in Terminus.

"What the hell is this place?" Daryl questioned as he stared upon the suspicious graves.

Michonne panted as he narrowed her eyes towards the candles on the floor sitting just above the names. "These people, I don't think they're trying to kill us."

"No, they were aiming at our feet." Rick replied with a pant.

"I think they're trying to eat us. That meat was a human's." Wilmur panted as he turned his head to Carl. "That's why I knocked down your plate."

Carl stared upon the candles sitting above the graves in horror with his fist clenching his pistol tightly. Wilmur quickly rushed back over to Carl protectively when he heard a radio chattering through static outside the building. They followed Rick to a door printed with an A, but a man shut and locked it from the outside.

Daryl quickly turned his body to see another door and rushed to it with them following from behind. They quickly rushed out of the creepy building with graves and candles before stepping outside where more gunshots were being fired into the dangerous and rotten air.

Wilmur shoved Carl ahead of him protectively again as gunshots fired upon them while they rushed down each alley of Terminus. They followed Daryl who was taking the lead passed a couple of train cars filled with innocent people as they rushed to a fence they could climb over.

However, men with machine guns appeared behind the fences and aimed their guns toward them with a death glare printed in their angry and vengeful eyes. They stopped sprinting and stared upon the dangerous men of Terminus before shooting them a deadly glare. They clenched their weapons tightly as growls rippled from their chests and broke through their gritted teeth.

Wilmur shoved Carl behind him protectively as he glared upon the men of Terminus with machine guns behind the fences covered with bacteria. He clenched his pistol tightly as his fist threatened to point at one of the men and pull the trigger, but he knew it would only result in getting themselves killed.

Gareth stood on a building behind them with a vengeful and angry glare plastered in the rage in his eyes. His fists were clenching tightly with his other hand draped over his lap while a woman stood behind him. Rick and Wilmur shot him a deadly glare as they stood protectively in front of Carl. They gritted their teeth to stop the vengeful growls from escaping their chests with their fists clenching too tightly as their palms turned purple.

"Drop your weapons! Now!" Gareth yelled angrily, but they refused to. "Now!"

Finally, they obeyed and dropped each of their weapons from holsters and belts to the concrete of the ground, hesitating while doing so. Despite having no weapons on them, Wilmur still stood in front of Carl in effort to protect him from the cannibals of Terminus. No matter what, he had to protect Carl even if he had absolutely no weapons on him to help. He had to do everything he could to protect him from the evil people in the world even if he had nothing on him to give him any type of help or reassurance.

They glared toward Gareth with their fists clenching tightly as their teeth gritted. Their palms had been turning to a lavender color from clenching them too tightly as they continued to glare while waiting on instructions from Gareth.

"Ringleader, go to your left! The train car, go!" Gareth yelled toward Rick and noticed his hesitation from his son. "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies and you end up in there anyway!"

Wilmur shot Gareth another death glare as he clenched his fists too tightly. He growled through his gritted teeth before taking another step in front of Carl in effort to shield him, but it was hopeless because they were surrounded by guns in every corner. His vengeful eyes darted to Rick who was still hesitating about leaving his son.

Rick's hesitating eyes met Wilmur's and gave him a nod to protect Carl in case anything happened before walking toward the traincar. He kept looking back at Wilmur and his son as he drew further and further away from them. Carl stared at him with worry expressed in his eyes as he stood in front of the traincar.

"Now the archer!" Gareth yelled toward Daryl.

Daryl glared upon Gareth's command before hesitantly obeying and following Rick over to the traincar. He clenched his fists tightly and gritted his teeth to stop the growls from escaping while he grew further away from his crossbow where he had never really been separated from in his entire life.

"Now the samurai!" Gareth yelled toward Michonne.

Michonne glared in rage and anger, giving Wilmur and Carl a worried expression before following after Daryl with her fists clenching tightly without her sword on her back. Wilmur took one last step in front of Carl to shield him completely in case anything were to happen. Worry filled Carl's eyes as he watched Michonne disappear to the traincar, leaving him and Wilmur the only ones left.

"Stand at the door, ringleader, archer, samurai, in that order!" Gareth yelled.

Rick's eyes darted to Carl's with worry filling his eyes as Wilmur stood in front of him protectively with a glare visible in his angry eyes. "My son!"

Gareth sighed deeply in annoyance. "Go, kid! Wilmur, you stay."

Carl stared at Wilmur with worry as he gently grasped his hand. Horror, fear, and could be visible in his calm eyes as he gently stroked the back of his hand. He refused to leave without his boyfriend with him. They had just reunited. He couldn't lose him again after he just got him back.

"Go!" Gareth yelled but Carl continued to ignore him.

Wilmur sighed deeply and stroked Carl's palm softly with his index finger to give his reassurance. His eyes softened upon staring into his younger lover's worried, light blue eyes. They stared into each other's softened eyes with worry and fear inside Carl's while Wilmur's was filled with love and reassurance.

"Just go." Wilmur whispered softly. "I'll get you back. I promise."

Carl sighed deeply before closing his eyes and slowly giving his head a small nod. He hesitated before letting go of Wilmur's bruised hand and walking slowly over to the traincar, giving Wilmur one last glance. Wilmur watched him as he slowly made his way over to the cart while his fists clenched and his teeth gritted to keep the growls from rippling out of his chest.

Although Wilmur knew he would get Carl back, he was still worried about what the Terminates could do to him and his family. He couldn't lose them after he just got him back. He refused to ever let go of him ever again in his life.

"Ringleader, open the door and go in!" Gareth told Rick.

Wilmur tensed as the glare in his eyes began to replace with worry and fear. Carl still hadn't made it over to the cart yet, and he'd prefer him to go in with his father because he wasn't there to protect him from the bullets. He wanted to scream no, but he knew it would only result in getting Carl killed. The last thing he wanted was Carl dead. He vowed to himself to protect him no matter what happened to everything and everyone.

"I'll go in with him!" Rick growled.

"Don't make us kill him now!" Gareth threatened.

Wilmur flinched and shot Gareth a deadly glare as growls rippled out of his chest with his fists clenching tightly. His eyes darted to Rick who had worry and fear filling his vengeful eyes. They were both clenching their fists as they watched Carl slowly make his way over to the traincar with his eyes filled with fear blocked by a shield.

Finally, Rick obeyed and opened the door to the traincar before slowly walking inside followed by Michonne and Daryl. Wilmur watched as they disappeared into the darkness of the traincar before darting his worried eyes to Carl who was still slowly making his way over to it.

Carl gave one last glance to Wilmur before slowly disappearing into the darkness of the traincar. His father gripped onto his neck and dragged his palm down, his normal gesture for him. They slowly walked into a dark corner with worry expressed in their eyes as they worried about Wilmur who was still sitting outside the traincar.

Some people were laying in the other corner of the cart. A lot of their faces appeared to be familiar as they stood up and slowly made their way over to them. One of them appeared to be Korean and other appeared to have short brown hair. Another woman had dark skin and brown hair along with another man who had dark skin and not much hair. One last woman had black hair and brown eyes who attacked the prison with the Governor.

One by one, they began to notice who they all were. The Korean man who was Glenn stood in front of the group beside the woman with brown hair who was Maggie. The woman with dark skin appeared to be Sasha and the man with dark skin and hardly any hair appeared to be Bob.

"Rick?" Glenn said as he moved closer to them.

"You're here." Rick said with relief in his tone, but was still worried for Wilmur. "You're here."

Suddenly, three strangers appeared behind Glenn's small group. One of them was a large man with muscles and had red hair along with a red mustache. Another one was a slightly overweight man with black hair which had a mullet in it. The last one was a Hispanic woman with dark hair and a low cut shirt.

Rick, Michonne, and Daryl narrowed their eyes toward the newcomers while Carl stared with worry as he gave small glances to the traincar door where Wilmur was standing outside of.

"They're our friends." Maggie told about the three strangers and the woman who attacked the prison with the Governor. "They helped save us."

Daryl softened his eyes upon the strangers who were friends of his friends. "Yeah. Now they're friends of ours."

"For however long that'll be." The large man with red hair replied.

Rick gave his head a small shake. "No. They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

Everyone furrowed their eyebrows toward Rick as he made his way over to the locked traincar door and placed his hand against the handle. He narrowed his eyes outside the small crack to hear yelling voices along with Wilmur's voice. His eyes darted to his son who was looking through the crack as well with worry in his eyes.

The man with red hair furrowed his thick eyebrows along with everyone else as he stared upon Rick with curiosity in his blue eyes. "Find out what?"

Rick continued to stare out the small crack in the door to hear the yelling voices growing louder. One of the yelling voices belonged to Wilmur. By the tone in his voice, he could tell Wilmur was frustrated and angry toward Gareth and the Terminates. Somehow in somehow, he will get Wilmur back for his son.

Wilmur was the only thing and person who was able to place even a tiny smile on Carl's lips for one second. He had made his son happy more than anyone else ever could on the entire planet. He wasn't going to tolerate having the smile disappear off his son's lips because of Wilmur's death. He would save Wilmur just like he saved him before when the violent and bloody war with the Governor was over.

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

The Governor stood on top of the tank with his army gathered around it as they held their machine guns with confidence in their angry eyes. He glared with his one evil eyes as he stared upon his army with his pistol clenched tightly in his fist. His girlfriend and the girlfriend's daughter was hiding away by the water somewhere to be kept safe while her sister was fight alongside with him with the army.

"Alright, y'all know what the plan is!" The Governor yelled sternly. "All we gotta do is make the prison feel threatened! Like I said, we most likely don't have to kill anyone, but we need to be prepared to be! We have to scare them out of the prison! They give us the prison after we threaten them and then they give me my son! It's simple! Just don't be afraid!"

The younger sister of the Governor sighed nervously as she struggled to keep the firm grip on her machine gun. "What if things go bad? What if they're strong enough to take us down?"

"They're not." The Governor replied with confidence. "And nothing will go bad! As long as we stick to the plan, the prison should be ours in no time!"

The younger sister of the Governor's girlfriend bowed her head as she followed everyone into the vehicles while the Governor sat on the tank. She watched as the camp disappeared into the trees of the woods as they traveled on the dirt road filled with rocks. She tapped her fingers on her lap to ease her nervousness.

Finally, they pulled up to the fences of the prison. Everyone quietly got out of the car and stared ahead of the field to see everyone doing their afternoon activities. She stood behind the Governor on the side of the tank as they fired a canon into the building to distract everyone from their working duties.

A group of people rushed behind a small brick building and hid behind it with their pistols clenched tightly in their hands. The Governor smirked upon seeing a young teen with black hair and crystal blue eyes. He was finally able to see his son again after being separated for too long. Although he didn't care much for his son, he was still excited to see the anger and rage inside his vengeful eyes along with Rick's worried and scared eyes filled with fear.

"Rick. Justin. Come down here." The Governor yelled across the field. "We need to talk." 


End file.
